


The Hive

by Ankaree



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:12:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ankaree/pseuds/Ankaree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part-time cryptologist Ray Doyle refuses to have blood on his hands. When the military asks for his help to decrypt a code that would locate misplaced nuclear weapons, Doyle refuses. His life abruptly takes a drastic change for the worse when members of The Hive, a terrorist faction, break into his home and threaten his life. Suddenly it's all too clear that any blood spilled may be his own. When a military-clad man unexpectedly appears to safeguard him, Doyle has no choice but to trust the stranger. A stranger who is everything Doyle is against... and everything he desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hive

Bodie had only been back in London for two months when the call came. He couldn't say that he was at all surprised to hear the familiar voice on the other end of the line. Had actually expected to hear from the man much sooner. Even had a rejection speech rehearsed for just this occasion. But listening to that voice again, hearing the urgency in its tone had Bodie tossing his speech out the window and agreeing to a meet at his own flat.

Precisely twenty-three minutes after the brief phone conversation, there was a brisk knock at his door. Tossing back the rest of his scotch, Bodie placed his glass on the coffee table and moved to answer it. Pulling open the door, he got his first look at his former boss in over two years.

"Sir," Bodie greeted, his tone flat.

George Cowley regarded Bodie with a piercing stare. A stare that, on many occasions, had been known to make less confident CI5 men tremble in their shoes. 

"May I come in?" asked Cowley.

With a nod, Bodie stepped aside and gestured for the man to enter. Cowley had not changed much since the last time Bodie had seen him. His hair was a touch thinner and there were a few more wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. But he still possessed that air of confidence and those eyes still held the emotions of a man who'd witnessed too much suffering in one lifetime.

"Drink?" offered Bodie once they were in the lounge.

"Aye, perhaps I will," Cowley replied, taking a seat on the settee. "A small malt, if you have it." 

After retrieving his own empty glass from where he'd left it, Bodie poured two glasses of Scotch at the small wooden cabinet he used for a bar. 

Cowley accepted the drink Bodie passed him and took a sip. "You're a hard man to find, Bodie."

"Wasn't wanting to be found, sir," Bodie answered, sitting down on the chair opposite the sofa.

"Aye, I soon realised that when I started searching for you. I was surprised to find you here in London."

"Only been back a few months." Not in the mood for idle chit-chat, Bodie demanded, "What do you want?"

"Ah, right to the point, then." Leaning forwards, Cowley placed his now empty glass on the table. "I need you. There's a… situation."

"So you said on the blower. And like I said, I don't give a damn about your situation," Bodie replied, purposefully adding a belated, "sir."

Cowley's mouth twitched with a hint of a smile. "Well, I see you haven't lost your respect for authority over the past years."

"No, but I am about to lose my temper, so you'd better get on with it."

"I need you to take on an assignment."

"In case you've forgotten, I left CI5 two years ago."

Cowley looked directly into Bodie's eyes. "Aye, lad. Not a day goes by that I don't remember."

Bodie looked away. He closed his eyes against the pain that suddenly seared through his chest at the remembered failed op and just how much he'd lost. His body trembled slightly when he was once again forced to face the horror of his two year old memories, still painfully fresh in his mind.

"I won't go back," Bodie growled. Rising to his feet, he glared at Cowley. "I lost too much working for you to ever go back." Turning away, he moved to stand by the window, looking out but not really seeing the street below.

"The Hive has resurfaced. They've started killing again."

Shocked, Bodie spun around. "No! That's impossible. I killed every last one of those bastards. I torched their ruddy building. Made sure none of them got out alive."

In the space of a heartbeat, Bodie relived every single moment of that time. He felt the rage that had gripped him as he'd killed. Felt the grim satisfaction of knowing that the IRA splinter group known as The Hive, would never hurt anyone again. Felt the emptiness of knowing that no matter how many men he'd killed, he couldn't bring back the dead – couldn't bring back the one person who meant everything to him. 

Revenge changed nothing.

"Four civilians are dead. The life of another is at stake," explained Cowley.

"And you want me to protect this person." Bodie shook his head in disbelief. "You must be joking."

"His name is Raymond Doyle." Cowley stood up and moved closer to Bodie. "You know The Hive, Bodie. You also know their tactics. And you, more than anyone, know what will happen to this young man if he isn't protected."

Bodie spat out a searing curse. Squeezing his hands into fists, he seethed with rage. For two long years he'd thought he'd taken out every last member of The Hive. Before he quit CI5 he had made sure that they could never hurt another person again.

He'd been wrong.

For two bloody years, he'd been wrong.

"Tell me where The Hive is now," Bodie demanded in a near growl. "I'll kill every last one of those bastards myself."

"At the moment we don't know their whereabouts. But we do know what, or rather who, they want –"

"Doyle," Bodie stated.

"Aye." Cowley nodded. "If you stay with him, you won't have to find The Hive. They'll find you."

A slow, vicious smile curved Bodie's lips. "Where do I find Doyle?"

***

With a small amount of trepidation, Professor Raymond Doyle stood outside Dean Graham Rutherford's office. He was quite sure of the reason for his being summoned. The dean wanted to impel him into accepting a grant that Doyle had already turned down.

Three years ago he had become employed by the University of Cambridge as a full-time professor in the Studio Arts Department teaching Painting and Life Drawing. Then a year ago he'd been offered to teach an additional class in Cryptography, a particular hobby of his. Doyle had been more than thrilled to accept. 

Raising his hand, he knocked on the large wooden door and waited for the dean's deep voice to bid him entrance.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Doyle asked upon entering the room.

"Professor Doyle. Please, have a seat." The slightly robust man motioned to a chair situated in front of his large mahogany desk. Once Doyle was seated, the man continued, "Have you made a decision about the grant?"

Doyle stopped himself from releasing a long breath of frustration. "My answer hasn't changed since last week. I won't accept any grant funded by the military."

Dean Rutherford removed his glasses, folded his hands on top of the desk and leaned slightly forward. "You are the only one in the department who can do the work. Hell, as far as I know, you're the only one in the country who can do it."

"That's not true. There are at least four other people who know more about this particular type of cryptology than I do. And two of those people live here in London."

"Perhaps. But they weren't the ones who were offered the grant money, were they? When I spoke with the men who came to see me, it sounded like very exciting work."

"They want me to develop a mathematically based encryption system for military use."

The dean frowned at Doyle in confusion. "I see nothing wrong with that."

"If I do this for them, eventually it will be used offensively. When that happens, people will die. I cannot be responsible for that."

"You've a brilliant mind, Professor Doyle, so I'm sure I don't have to tell you that if you don't agree do this, someone else will." The dean paused a moment, staring directly at Doyle. "The university needs this particular grant."

"I realise that, but I won't have blood on my hands. I just won't do it. Even if it means I have to tender my resignation."

"You don't even know that anyone will get hurt. In fact, your work could possibly save lives."

"What if you're wrong?" Doyle rose to his feet. "No. I can't take that chance. Couldn't live with meself if my work caused the deaths of innocent people."

"I don't think you're taking this seriously enough." The dean stood as well and said heatedly, "This is your career we're talking about, Mr Doyle. Are you willing to walk away from it because of something that _might_ happen?

Knowing he was sacrificing his job for his own moral beliefs, Doyle replied, "Sorry, sir. I won't be a part of killing. No matter how necessary some British general thinks it may be."

"Your entire future rests on this decision. Take the weekend to think it over one last time. Come and see me on Monday with your final answer."

Doyle didn't bother to tell the dean that he'd already done all the thinking he needed to do. He'd already made up his mind. He would, in no way, agree to do the work. He may be out of a job come Monday, but at least he'd be able to live with himself. That was something no amount of money could buy.

***

Doyle entered his tiny home, flipping on a few lights here and there. He shed his jacket, depositing it on the settee as he made his way through the lounge towards the kitchen. This evening he had stayed later in his office than intended, taking the time to shred every piece of paper that had to do with the military project. Now, he was famished and looking forward to a good meal. Deciding on a tuna casserole, he made quick work preparing it then slid the dish into the heated oven. Fancying a cuppa, he poured water into the kettle. Just as he was about to plug it in, the lights went out, plunging the house into darkness.

"Bloody hell." He sighed and pulled open the drawer that held his torch. 

Even though the house he owned had its charm and character, it was also very old. The wiring tended to be a bit finicky at times. This would make the third time this week that he'd blown a fuse.

Switching on the torch, he walked to the cellar door, and carefully descended the bare wooden stairs. The damp, musky room caused Doyle to sneeze twice before he opened the metal door to the fuse box. Having left a new fuse on the workbench nearby, he made quick work of changing the old for the new. 

Even with the new fuse in place, the lights refused to come on. He glared at the box while scratching the top of his head. As he contemplated what to do next, above him the sound of breaking glass echoed through the house. 

Doyle froze, listening intently. 

A floorboard overhead made a quiet creak and he could hear the slow, methodical steps of at least two people walking around.

Christ, he was being robbed.

Quickly, he extinguished the light and slipped as quietly as he could away from the front of the stairs. The cellar was relatively empty; a few small cardboard boxes lay scattered about, making the only place to hide behind the staircase.

The footsteps came closer to the top of the stairs. Doyle held his breath as a beam of light flashed into the cellar, coming to rest on the spot where he had been standing only seconds before. He frowned slightly when a tiny red dot joined the pool of white and together they slowly slid over the dusty floor. 

Staring at the red dot, Doyle sucked in a silent breath as realisation hit. That small red beam could be the sight from a weapon. Just yesterday, in the restroom at the university, he'd overheard two fellow professors discussing some new rifle the military was using that had a laser sight attached. 

Doyle's heart hammered in his chest. These men weren't some kids out to nick a television or radio for a few quid. Whoever was in his house was armed with a serious weapon. But why? His mind screamed. Why would men with a gun like that be here?

The white light abruptly swung his way, landing on the floor near his feet. Doyle stood stock-still, knowing if he moved he'd give away his hiding place. The wood of the top step creaked and he watched wide-eyed as a booted foot stepped onto the stairway. Blood pounded loudly in his ears and he had to bite down on his lower lip to keep the gasp from escaping. When the beam of light moved away from him, he slowly and quietly shuffled backwards until his back hit the damp, stone wall behind him. He tightly clutched the torch, knowing it was his only weapon. Also knowing that it would be a poor match against men armed with guns.

Suddenly, there was a sound of a sharp pop, followed by a muffled thump coming from the lounge directly above him. The foot on the stair pivoted, as if the man had turned around to look behind him. Both the white beam of light and the red dot disappeared, casting the cellar into total darkness once again. Doyle heard another pop before the body crashed loudly down the steps, landing with a dull thud on the cellar floor, unmoving.

It only took a heartbeat for Doyle to realise the man was dead. Most of the face was covered with a dark knit mask, but from where Doyle stood, he could see the man's open eyes, glazed and unblinking. The rifle the man had been wielding lay next to his left hand, the red laser light shining a beam across the room to land on the opposite wall. The man's broken torch rested close to his oddly angled left leg. With the gun in easy reach, Doyle made a move to grab for it when the creak of the floorboard had him sliding back into the shadows once again. He glanced up, and to his dismay, saw a new pair of boots land stealthily on the top step.

The newcomer began down the steps, sticking close to the wall so the wood made as little noise as possible. The man's movements were cautious, but had a practiced grace that made Doyle believe that whoever this was had done such things many times before. Doyle watched him kneel before the dead man and press two fingers against the throat. He noticed that even though the man checked for a pulse, his eyes never lowered, they carefully scanned the room and the second Doyle was spotted, the man's body went still.

Their eyes met and a cold sweat began to trickle down Doyle's spine. Clutching the torch even tighter, he brought it up over his right shoulder preparing to swing it like a baseball bat.

"Professor Doyle?" the man asked in a low whisper. "Name's Bodie. I'm not here to harm you. I'm here to get you out." Bodie stood and extended a leather gloved hand. His entire body was encased in black and he wore the same type of face mask as the dead man. The assault rifle he held rested against his thigh with the confidence of someone who was used to handling weapons.

Doyle wanted to believe this man wasn't lying. As he looked into Bodie's eyes, something deep inside Doyle, an innate instinct, told him that Bodie was indeed here to help. He took a tentative step forward, towards the extended hand, when a quiet thump came from above. Doyle jumped slightly, his heart kicking back into high gear again. 

Bodie didn't even flinch. He raised a gloved finger to his lips to indicate silence then knelt to switch off the red light of the laser beam. Once again the cellar was cast into darkness. Doyle fought off the urge to flip on the light to his torch, but knew that if he did it would give away their position to whomever was wandering around upstairs. 

Cautiously, Doyle slipped closer to Bodie. "What-" Any other words he had planned to say were muffled by a hand covering his mouth. Bodie pushed Doyle back and used his body to flatten Doyle against the stone wall. 

Bending his head down, Bodie's lips brushed against Doyle's ear as he whispered, "Be quiet and I'll get us both out of here alive."

Doyle had no idea what any of this was about, or why these men were in his house trying to harm him. One thing he did know for certain was that no matter how much he wanted to flee from this situation, there was no way he was going to move until Bodie told him he could. He gave Bodie a slight nod to let him know that he understood.

Seeming satisfied, Bodie lessened the pressure of his fingers on Doyle's mouth. Doyle sucked in a deep breath. The movement brought them even closer together and he could feel the heat of Bodie's body seep through his own shirt. Doyle's nose was level with the side of Bodie's neck and he was able to smell the combination of the leather glove, cordite, and warm, male skin. In this deadly situation, he found himself liking the scent – actually found it oddly comforting.

Another loose floorboard sounded, giving away the position of the intruder above. The person was in Doyle's bedroom and he could tell by the slow creak and groan of the floor that the intruder was searching for something – or someone.

Bodie shifted slightly, and the hand that had been hovering over Doyle's mouth came to rest on his shoulder. Once again, he felt the brush of lips against his ear as Bodie spoke in a low, gruff voice. "Stay put. I'll be back for you in a minute."

"But-" Bodie's hand sealed off Doyle's mouth again, stopping any other words from escaping.

"I know what I'm doing. I'll come and get you when it's safe." 

Before Doyle knew it, Bodie was gone, disappearing up the stairs and into the darkness without even leaving the faintest sound of his footsteps.

***

Bodie crouched down next to the man he'd just killed in the bedroom to pick up the weapon. A quick glance at it confirmed Bodie's suspicions – the laser weapon had been converted into a tranquilliser gun.

The men who were after Doyle were not here to kill him.

They wanted him alive.

Bodie should have felt relieved at that thought, but he knew The Hive. In the past, they had wanted many other hostages alive – at first.

A shiver ran down Bodie's spine as bitter memories flooded his head, causing his gut to tighten. Two years ago he had failed and it had cost a life. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

Moving out of the bedroom, Bodie headed down the hallway towards the lounge. As he neared the kitchen, a shadow fell across the smashed kitchen door, giving away the presence of another person outside. To Bodie's right the cellar stair creaked. He knew that Doyle was heading right into the line of fire. Gun raised and crouching low, Bodie moved quickly, attempting to cover Doyle's entrance into the kitchen. At the exact same time, the enemy came around the doorframe, making himself a clear target. However, before Bodie had time to squeeze the trigger, Doyle entered the room, blocking the path directly between Bodie and his target.

With a silent curse, Bodie dropped the muzzle of his gun down to the floor. "Doyle! Get down!" he shouted.

The man in the doorway ducked and fired, the dart finding its mark, the tip sinking into the flesh of Doyle's thigh. Doyle jumped, hissing in pain, the rifle in his hands falling to the floor with a metallic clang. For a second, Doyle stared at the object in his leg before reflexively ripping it out and tossing it aside. 

Unfortunately, Bodie knew the damage was already done. Doyle wobbled unsteadily on his legs as the drug began to take effect. He fell to his knees, hands dropping in front of him in an attempt to keep himself upright.

Bodie quickly rose from his crouch, levelled his gun at the enemy and squeezed off one shot. The bullet hit its target, right in the middle of the intruder's chest. Even before the dead man had crumpled on the ground, Bodie was rushing to Doyle's side. 

Doyle's fingers were pressed over the wound in his leg, a dark spot of blood staining the material of his jeans. Drug hazed eyes met Bodie's and he knew he didn't have much time to complete the second part of his mission before the drug rendered Doyle unconscious. 

Taking Doyle by the shoulders, Bodie gave him a shake. "Don't pass out on me yet, Doyle," he commanded in a quiet growl. "Where's your research?"

Doyle squeezed his eyes shut then opened them wide, trying to focus on Bodie's face. "Wha…?

"Your papers? For the military?"

Clumsily, Doyle's mouth worked to form words. "No papers. All here," he mumbled, tapping a limp finger against his temple. His eyes glazed over, his face went slack and Bodie caught him as his body toppled over.

_"Save Doyle at all costs. We need him alive."_ Cowley's words came back to him. Bodie's orders had been crystal clear. Not wanting to wait around for any more visitors to appear, Bodie scooped Doyle up and positioned him over his shoulder. As soon as his burden was settled, Bodie raised his gun, went out the back door and headed for his Range Rover.

***

From his vantage point across the street, Enrico Krivas lifted the edge of the lacy curtain and watched Professor Doyle being carried away. Something nagged at his memory the second he saw the man who had killed his own men and now had possession of Doyle. Krivas frowned. There was something familiar about the way the man moved. Perhaps it wasn't so much that he knew this particular man as it was the fact that he knew men like him. Men who were dedicated to an ideal they would never see realised. 

_Such a waste of talent,_ Krivas thought. _It's a shame that someone with so much to offer will be dead in a few hours._

As for Doyle, Krivas would have the pleasure of convincing him to use his special talents to help his organisation.

In the distance, the sound of sirens could be heard. The authorities would be arriving any minute and Krivas wanted to be long gone. Letting the curtain fall back into place, he turned, stepping over the bloody remains of the elderly woman who used to occupy the house.

***

Bodie sped down the motorway until the lights from the city were only a faint glow in the night sky. After several lane and speed changes, he was fairly certain that no one was following them. With one last glance in the rear view mirror, he picked up the mic to his radio and turned the dial to the secure frequency.

"3.7 to Alpha One."

_"Alpha One, go ahead 3.7,"_ answered Cowley.

"I've got him, sir. A clean-up team will be needed at the house."

_"What kind of mess?"_

"Three bodies. One van parked in the drive."

_"Did you get all Doyle's research?"_

"He said there were no papers. That the information is in his head."

_"I'll order a sweep of the house to be sure."_ There was a brief pause before Cowley asked, _"What is his condition?"_

Bodie looked at Doyle's limp form asleep in the passenger seat. Curled up the way he was against the door, Doyle appeared young and vulnerable. Since Bodie had no way of knowing what kind of tranquilliser had been used or how much was in Doyle's system, he found himself stealing glances to make sure the man was still breathing.

He hoped there would be no ill effects caused by the drug. They needed Doyle. The professor was their best chance for breaking the most complicated bit of cyphertext that had surfaced since the end of World War II. That was the reason why The Hive, the military and Cowley wanted Doyle alive.

"He was shot with a tranq dart," Bodie replied. "He's still out cold. Perhaps I should take him to hospital."

_"No. It's too risky."_

"He may need medical attention, sir."

_"You've been trained for this type of situation, 3.7. Deal with it."_

"I don't like it."

_"You have your orders."_

"Yes, sir."

Bodie resisted the urge to tell Cowley where he could shove his orders and quickly glanced at Doyle. Auburn curls spilled over his forehead and onto the right side of his cheek. Doyle's skin was too pale and it worried Bodie. If he couldn't take Doyle to hospital then he needed to get him to the closest location that Bodie had scoped out during his quick preparation for this op. Not far up ahead was a lodge where he could take the time to check Doyle out more carefully and focus on getting the drugs out of his system.

"I'll check back in when I'm settled," Bodie said.

_"Aye. Report in as soon as you can. Alpha One out."_ The line went dead and Bodie hung up his mic. 

He drove for another two miles and turned off at the next exit. Pulling around the corner, he brought the Range Rover to a halt, switched off the headlights and waited to see if anyone followed. When he was satisfied that they weren't going to have any company, Bodie turned the lights back on and continued down the narrow laneway until he reached the Pinecroft Lodges. After signing the register under an assumed name, Bodie manoeuvred the vehicle past the main building, following the road until it brought him to a small wooden lodge that was tucked away from all the others.

Bodie shifted around, turning his body towards Doyle, who now sat slumped in his seat, looking rather uncomfortable. Sliding across the bench, Bodie took hold of Doyle's shoulders, lifting his body so that Doyle sat more upright. Doyle let out a quiet moan. His head lolled sideways, coming to rest on Bodie's shoulder. Bodie froze when Doyle's mouth pressed lightly against his throat and warm breath swept over his skin like a caress.

Entirely against Bodie's will, his body responded. 

After the botched operation between CI5 and The Hive, Bodie had quit the organisation and gone into isolation – deep isolation – for over two years. Not once during that time had he touched or been touched, sexually or otherwise, by another man. 

He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as a spicy scent mixed with male sweat filled his nostrils, scattering his thoughts. His body hardened in a maddening rush of blood – all of it leaking from his brain and heading south. 

As if it had a will of its own, Bodie's hand reached out to touch Doyle's hair. The soft, silky texture of a curl slid between his fingers. Doyle released a contented sigh and leaned more heavily against Bodie. Suddenly realising what he was doing, Bodie snapped his hand away and cursed as sweat beaded along his hairline.

Why did it have to be a man who needed rescuing? A man whose exotic good looks were very appealing. It was the first time in two years that he'd been attracted to someone and he wasn't sure how that made him feel. Actually, if he was to take a moment to be honest with himself, it scared the hell out of him and he didn't want any part of it.

With an effort of will, Bodie moved away so no part of him was in contact with Doyle. He adjusted Doyle's head so that it was resting comfortably against the seat, doing his best to touch the man as little as possible. Although he tried to ignore it, Bodie could still smell Doyle's unique scent and was sure he would remember it for a very long time.

After several long seconds, Bodie managed to slow his breathing back to a normal rhythm. He got out of the truck, walked around to Doyle's side and opened the passenger door. Under the cover of darkness, he hefted Doyle onto his shoulder and quickly made his way into the lodge.

***

The smell of strong coffee worked its way into Doyle's brain, slowly bringing him back to consciousness. His head felt like it had been dragged behind a lorry and his mouth was as dry as a barren wasteland. Unsteadily, he reached for the glass of water he kept on his bedside table, but instead of touching the smooth, cool glass, his fingers encountered something hard and warm instead.

Panic sparked to life, the adrenaline rushing through his body like fire through dry timber. Doyle's eyes shot open, the meagre light in the room stabbed at his skull, causing him to groan in pain.

"Easy," said a quiet, deep voice close by.

A warm hand slid around the nape of Doyle's neck, helping him to sit up. 

"Here. Drink some water." The cool edge of a glass was pressed again his lips. Obediently, Doyle opened his mouth and welcomed the wave of cold liquid that slid down his throat. 

Forcing his eye open, Doyle squinted as the dim lighting from the bedside lamp made his temples throb. The man sitting on the edge of the bed shifted his body so that his shadow fell across Doyle's eyes.

"Your headache should ease off in a little while. These pills will help." Two pills were pushed into Doyle's palm and he stared at them for a second before placing them inside his mouth. Once again the glass was offered, but his hand shook as he tried to take it. "Let me." When he felt the rim of the glass rest against his bottom lip, he parted his mouth, allowing the water to wash the pills down.

"Ta," Doyle said, his voice rough. He looked up, trying to focus on the other man. Although his vision was a little fuzzy, Doyle could easily see the set of wide shoulders and muscular chest. The man sat only inches from him. An arm was still supporting the weight of Doyle's shoulders, and Doyle could feel the heat of the hand pressing against him, its warmth seeping through his shirt. 

Although the man seemed vaguely familiar, Doyle couldn't quite place him. Oddly enough, he did recognize his scent – leather, sweat, cordite – and somehow knew, without a doubt, that this man was responsible for getting him out of his house alive.

"Who are you? No. Wait." Doyle held up a shaky hand and concentrated on what had transpired that evening. It took a few seconds before the whole night came flooding back to him and he had to clamp down on the rising panic. With an effort of will, he forced himself to think logically, rationally. After a few deep breaths, he calmed enough that he could manage a clear thought and the name of the man came back to him. "Bodie, right?"

"Right," Bodie replied with a little smirk. 

"Where are we?" Doyle asked around a yawn. "What am I doing here? And who were those blokes in my house?"

Bodie ignored his questions and eased him back down onto the mattress. Doyle's body felt boneless, weak. He didn't have the strength to sit up under his own power. It was a very vulnerable position to be in. Suddenly, fear began to rush through him.

Bodie must have seen the trepidation on his face because he laid a soothing hand on Doyle's forehead and brushed back his curls. "The weakness will pass in a little while. It's an after-effect of the tranquilliser-" 

"Tranquilliser?" His brain supplied him with memories of the sharp pain, seeing the small, needle-like object sticking out of his thigh and reaching down to jerk it out. At the time, he'd not processed what had happened, however now it was clear he'd been shot with some sort of dart. Like the kind he'd seen used on animals.

"Those pills I gave you will help clear the tranquillisers out of your system. You'll be feeling like your old self in no time." Bodie's fingers shifted from Doyle's forehead to lightly touch his temple. "How's the head?"

"Feels like it's been trampled by elephants."

A faint grin lifted the side of Bodie's face. "That bad, eh?" Bodie stood up. He moved into the tiny kitchen and Doyle could hear the clink of ice hitting glass followed by the hiss of water.

"Where are we?" Doyle enquired again.

"Outside of London. This place is only a temporary stop over. Had to make sure you were all right and to find out if there were any other copies of your work anywhere."

_Work?_ Doyle frowned and blinked in confusion. "What work?" 

Bodie returned to stand by the side of the bed and stared down at Doyle. From his vantage point, Doyle could see Bodie was a fairly tall bloke with short, dark hair and a handsome face which was shadowed in dark stubble. He wore black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. The tight, dark clothing nicely accentuated the well muscled body. Bodie possessed the kind of masculinity that could make both women and men, who happened to cross his path, do a serious double take – and that was exactly what Doyle was doing. 

It shocked Doyle to be looking at Bodie with anything more than idle curiosity. Doyle had always had a fairly active sex life, although he'd never had such an instant attraction to a man as he was having with Bodie. He'd always preferred to get to know someone first. Go out on a few dates, before taking them to his bed. However, looking at Bodie, he found himself wanting to know what it would feel like to have that amazing body cover his own and press him down into the mattress. To have those soft looking lips take possession of his mouth. Perhaps it was the drugs causing him to feel this way, or perhaps it was the fact that Bodie had pinned Doyle up against that stone wall at a time when his whole system was being flooded with adrenalin. No matter the reason, at the moment Doyle was seeing Bodie as a very interesting, very physically appealing man.

"I've been given clearance to know about your work with encryption algorithms for the military," Bodie said, watching Doyle closely. "There's no need for you to hide it."

Doyle struggled to sit up, but his muscles refused to cooperate, making him want to scream in frustration. "I'm not hiding anything," he snapped. "I'm not doing any encryption work for the military. I gave it up when I found out they were the ones paying."

"And all the work you did before you gave it up? Where is it?"

"What little I did document, I destroyed."

"Bullshit." Even though Bodie's voice was quiet, his tone was still harsh enough to convey his disbelief.

"Pardon?"

"I was informed about your work on project Ghost Shield. You were offered a lot of money to do the work. You wouldn't have just thrown it all away."

"Don't know what you're talking about. I've never heard of project Ghost Shield."

"Not the name, perhaps, but you were offered grant money to complete your research."

"Grant money?" Doyle sneered. "More like blood money.

Bodie gave Doyle a casual shrug of indifference. "Call it what you want. All I want to know, Doyle, is the whereabouts of your research."

"Look, Bodie. Already told you, didn't I? Everything I had I destroyed."

Bodie stood silent, watching Doyle as if he was trying to determine the truth of his words. "You're sure there are no other copies anywhere? No forgotten files? Nothing written on paper napkins just lying about?"

"You think I'm an idiot?" Doyle asked angrily, wishing that he had the strength to get up and thump the man. "I know better than to leave anything that valuable hanging about where anyone could find it and use it. I'll tell you one last time; everything I did for that project has been destroyed. Probably lose my job because I did."

One dark eyebrow rose. "You're going to be fired?"

"The university is undergoing budget cuts. Without that grant, I'm out."

"And even though you were going to be fired if you didn't take the grant money, you were still refusing to do the work?

"Yes. I refuse to do anything in support of violence. There was a chance my work would be used against innocent people. I will not be responsible for their deaths."

Bodie regarded Doyle for a moment before nodding and sitting down on the bed. The mattress dipped with his weight, causing Doyle to roll into Bodie's side until his hip rested against Bodie's leg. Doyle felt his heart skip a beat at the close contact.

Bodie slid his arm behind Doyle and propped him up against the "v" between Bodie's arm and body. The glass was held for Doyle to drink, but a little water spilled out the side of his mouth to trickle down his chin and neck. The cold liquid made Doyle gasp as it slid down onto his chest. Bodie grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and a shiver passed through Doyle as the long, strong fingers slipped beneath the collar of his shirt to dab at the trail of water.

"Cold?" Bodie asked, moving his gaze away from Doyle's chest. "Depressants can sometimes do that. Not to mention shock."

Doyle looked away from Bodie's hand to his face. He tried to concentrate on the man's words rather than just Bodie's mouth moving. It looked soft yet firm and Doyle found himself bizarrely wondering if the man knew how to kiss as well as he could kill.

"Shock?" Doyle mumbled, his gaze returning to look at Bodie's hand and the way the long fingers tapered to short, neatly trimmed fingernails.

Bodie lifted an amused brow. "You don't think that being attacked in your own home and shot at is enough to shock you?" As he talked, Bodie pulled the sheet and blanket up, carefully tucking it under Doyle's chin. The kind, almost intimate gesture caused Doyle's stomach to do a little flip. He watched Bodie closely, but nothing on the man's face gave away what he was thinking.

"Are you going to take me home in the morning?"

Bodie's head came up to meet his eyes and Doyle could see a hint of sadness in their depth. "No, Doyle. You can't go back home." Bodie paused. "You can never go home again."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, Doyle's chest tightened in disbelief and he struggled to catch his breath. 

"I'm sorry," Bodie said, touching Doyle's shoulder. "It's the way it has to be, mate. You'd best get used to it."

"I don't understand."

Before answering, Bodie stared at Doyle for a long minute. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Fear, confusion and isolation swirled together within Doyle, creating a cold ache in the pit of his stomach. "All I want to do is go home."

"You are currently listed as the most gifted civilian cryptologist in the country – possibly even the world."

Doyle nearly laughed out loud at the ridiculous statement. "That's absurd. My main work is as an artist. A painter. Cryptology is only a hobby of mine. There are at least two other men in London alone who have more knowledge and experience in that particular area than I do."

Bodie's voice was very low and quiet when he spoke. "Six months ago, perhaps, but no longer."

Doyle frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

"You only need to know that the same thing will not happen to you," Bodie answered determinedly.

"Sure of that, are you?"

"Yes." Bodie's fingers carded through Doyle's mussed curls and Doyle was regarded with a fierce, unwavering stare. "Because they didn't have me protecting them."

***

Bodie watched Doyle as he fell back to sleep again. The tranquilliser was still affecting him, but not as much as Bodie had first feared. He could breathe a little easier knowing that the drugs weren't going to kill Doyle and now it was entirely up to Bodie to see that nothing else did.

Doyle shifted onto his side, the covers slipping down his arm. Bodie found himself reaching out to tug the blanket back up to cover the exposed shoulder. They couldn't stay in this lodge much longer, but Bodie wanted to give Doyle every minute possible to allow the drugs to work their way out of his system. He could tell by the panic he'd seen in Doyle's green eyes just how much it frightened him not to be in control of his own body.

Bodie doubted that Doyle fully grasped the concept that his name was at the top of a terrorist hit list. Four other men had been on that same list. Each had been kidnapped by The Hive because they possessed the expertise for cracking obscure codes. Those four men had either refused to cooperate, or had simply been unable to break the code, for they all had been found dead. Executed by The Hive. Bodie couldn't bring himself to tell Doyle that he was next. The man had already been through enough today.

As much as Bodie disliked having his isolation disturbed, he admitted Cowley had been right to call him back into CI5. He knew just what would happen to Doyle if he didn't do this right. Mistakes were one hell of an effective teacher.

Bodie only wished Doyle didn't appeal to him so much. With his scruffy curls and lean, muscular body, the man allured Bodie like no other had done before. He couldn't forget Doyle's unique scent or the quiet noises he made while sleeping. And it seemed like every time Bodie had to touch Doyle, he felt himself become excited. 

It was pathetic, really.

Even though Bodie had gone more than two years without sex, he should be able to have enough restraint to stop touching Doyle more than was absolutely necessary. But it was as if his hands had a mind of their own. His fingers would caress the curly hair, touch Doyle's cheek or pat his shoulder. 

All completely unnecessary.

But quite nice, actually.

It was possible that his protective instincts were running on overdrive, but Bodie had to keep fighting off the urge to pull Doyle into his arms and say that everything was going to be all right. Unfortunately, Bodie understood the reality of the situation. It wasn't going to be okay – not by a long chalk. Chances were high that if Doyle wanted to stay alive, he would have to walk away from the life he knew and cut all ties with friends and family.

Doyle released a quiet moan in his sleep and Bodie looked down at the pale face. At least the drugs were wearing off quickly enough that Doyle should be able to walk out of here under his own power. That would keep Bodie from needing to touch Doyle more, which was for the best.

Come morning, Bodie hoped he would be able to convince Doyle to cooperate with CI5 before they made it to the safe house, where Cowley would undoubtedly be ready to pounce. Bodie'd not been given the code that his boss wanted Doyle to break. _"Strictly classified,"_ Cowley had said. What his boss did say was that the information would lead them straight to the remaining members of The Hive.

The need for revenge still burned deeply within Bodie, even though he knew it would never change the past. He needed to wipe out every person involved with The Hive. Only then would he be satisfied.

For him to accomplish his goal, he needed Doyle's complete and utter cooperation. And, one way or another, that was what he was going to get.

***

The last thing Doyle wanted was for Bodie to help him to the bog. That thought was what motivated him to push away the last of the cobwebs in his head and slip his legs over the edge of the mattress. 

Doyle pushed himself up, hoping Bodie wouldn't notice him. That the man would keep watching out the window through a crack in the curtains. Doyle wasn't feeling completely steady on his feet, but he figured with the wall nearby, he'd be fine.

He had taken only one step before his luck ran out and Bodie detected his movement. A few quick strides across the room had Bodie standing by his side. "How are you feeling?" Bodie asked, his eyes measuring Doyle's body as though he were absorbing every single detail.

"Need to use the loo."

Bodie nodded. "Dizzy?"

"A little. Nothing I can't handle."

"Mmmhmm," Bodie mumbled, not sounding at all convinced. He reached a hand out to grab Doyle by the upper arm, not so tight that it hurt, yet with enough pressure that if Doyle were to stumble, Bodie would be able to stop him from falling flat on his face. Doyle allowed himself to be escorted to the bathroom then gave Bodie a scowl that told him he would take it from here. Bodie just grunted, and leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Be right here if you need me."

Doyle forced himself to stand fully upright and fix Bodie with a glare. "Won't need you for this," he said and firmly closed the door in Bodie's face.

Once inside the bathroom, Doyle rested both hands against the edge of the basin, breathing deeply in hopes of abating the throb and spin of his head. Whatever drug he'd been shot with had one heck of a wallop. Of course, he'd missed a few meals since this whole mess had started which could also count towards his dizziness.

Now that he was vertical and able to think more clearly, Doyle took stock of his situation. He still had no idea where he was, or who, exactly, Bodie was. Doyle assumed he worked for the military, or some such organisation, but there was a chance that Bodie wanted him to think that. For all he knew, Bodie could be a spy, sent to gather information on the decryption algorithms Doyle had been working on.

Doyle wasn't daft. He knew the power his solution would give to any intelligence agency, be they government or otherwise. As soon as he realised just how far he could take his work, he refused to continue, knowing that it was too powerful a weapon to develop. Whoever had control of it would never again have to worry about breaking any code. Doyle's solution wasn't a one-time-only deciphering tool. If finished, it was pretty definite that given enough computing power, Doyle's work would come close to artificial intelligence. Feed it enough cyphertext, and eventually it would have enough data to not only break any code, it would actually be able to predict future codes based on historical information. It was extremely possible that the system would at first learn, then it would teach.

Developing something that complex would take years. However, Doyle could imagine how it would work and knew it was not only possible, but very much within his ability to create.

He had never told anyone how far his solution had advanced. And if he wanted to stay alive, he'd be sure to keep it a secret. As long as no one knew what he was capable of, there was no risk he would be forced to work on what he considered the ultimate code-breaker.

There was one question in Doyle's mind that remained to be answered. If no one knew how far he'd progressed, then why did those men come after him at his house? And why had Bodie come to save him?

And, most importantly, could Doyle trust Bodie?

Looking around the cramped bathroom, he noticed the frosted-glass window above the toilet. He eyed the window for size and figured if he could open it, he'd be able to fit through.

Although the door to the bathroom was locked, Doyle knew that it wouldn't take Bodie much effort to break it down if he heard Doyle attempting to escape. Perhaps he could tell Bodie that he was going to take a shower and while the water was running to mask the sound, quickly sneak out.

The dizziness had abated somewhat and though Doyle's legs still felt rubbery, they were stronger than before. He could try to make a break for it. But should he? What if Bodie was the only thing standing between him and whoever was trying to kidnap him? It did seem rather foolish to run from a man who had done nothing except try to help him. However, that helpfulness could be a trick to lull Doyle into a sense of false security. When Doyle mulled that over, he didn't think it was true. There was something honourable about Bodie. Yes, the man may be a tad gruff, but he had protected Doyle. Had got Doyle out alive. All of his instincts were telling him that Bodie was a good man. That he could be trusted. Staying with Bodie was a hell of a lot safer than trying to wiggle out a window and face the unknown alone, weak and unarmed. He figured that for right now, Bodie was his best bet.

When Doyle came out of the bathroom, Bodie was still there, lounging against the wall. "Glad you didn't try it," Bodie said.

"Eh? Try what?"

"The window."

Doyle did his best to keep his features straight-faced before Bodie could see his shocked reaction to him knowing what he'd been planning. "Don't know what you're talking about."

A flicker of amusement flashed across Bodie's eyes. "You're too smart not to have thought about going out that window, professor. I can assure you that you wouldn't have got very far before I'd have tracked you down."

"If I'd wanted to get away, I would have."

"Sure you would."

Doyle gave Bodie a look full of challenge before a sudden pain at his temples made him grimace.

"Head still hurting?" Bodie asked, looking directly into Doyle's eyes.

"Yeah, but I'll live."

"The tranq should have worn off by now, but your movements still seem a bit sluggish. Are you on any medication? Taking any drugs?"

"I don't do drugs," Doyle replied angrily. "Not that it's any of your business."

Bodie glared at him. "Everything about you is my business. I've been assigned to keep you alive, so you won't so much as blink without me knowing about it."

"Assigned? By who?" Doyle demanded.

Bodie remained silent, lips pressed together in a thin line.

"I see. You get to know everything about me, yet I don't even get to know who sent you."

Bodie nodded once. "Right."

Frustrated, Doyle made an attempt to push past Bodie, except it was like trying to move a stone wall.

"Now that you're up, we need to get moving," Bodie said as he turned and walked away.

"Where are we going? No, wait, let me guess. You could tell me, but then you'd have to kill me, right?"

One corner of Bodie's mouth actually twitched with a smile. "Right again, mate." 

Doyle sighed, knowing he wouldn't be getting anything out of Bodie. With any luck, Bodie would be taking him to his superiors, where at least Doyle would be able to ask some questions and have them answered in return. He hoped that as soon as he got to talk with someone with high enough rank, they'd get this whole mess straightened out and he could be back home by Monday at the latest.

***

Doyle leaned against the inside of the passenger door and watched the countryside fly by. The sun had just begun to rise over the horizon and the sky was awash with pale yellow, pink and violet. He found himself wishing he had a canvas along with his paints so he could capture the beautiful sight. 

Closing his eyes, he listened to the hum of the Range Rover's tyres. As the soothing sound eased his tension, his thoughts once again turned to the man sitting next to him. 

At the lodge, Doyle had inconspicuously watched Bodie while he had stripped off his shirt to put on a fresh one. No longer groggy, Doyle had been able to truly appreciate just how gorgeous a body Bodie possessed. The muscles in his chest and abs were an artist's dream. Each movement graceful as Bodie checked his gun and the gear. Doyle liked that Bodie wasn't bulging with muscles, those the man did have were well defined and slid fluidly against each other beneath his skin, bunching and flexing in hypnotic masculinity.

By the time they had left the lodge, Doyle was shaking and he did his best to try to convince himself that it was caused by low blood sugar from missing so many meals. But he couldn't fool himself, he knew it was something more. 

It was ludicrous really. He didn't even know the man. For all Doyle knew, Bodie could be married, though he wore no ring on his finger. Hell, Doyle didn't even know if Bodie was straight or gay… or both.

"How much longer before we get to this mysterious destination?" Doyle asked to distract himself.

Bodie gave a quick glance at his watch. "In a few hours. Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

"There's a transport cafe a few miles up the road. We'll stop there, get some breakfast takeaway."  
They drove for another four miles before Bodie pulled the vehicle into the car park. "What do you want to eat?"

Doyle shrugged. "Same as you will be fine."

Bodie shifted in his seat, turning to look directly at Doyle, his gaze firm. "Stay in the car. And take this." Bodie reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out his gun, sliding it across the seat towards Doyle.

Not moving a muscle, Doyle stared at the weapon as though it would bite him. "What do you want me to do with that?"

"Take it. If anything happens… if anyone comes after you, use it."

"I…" Doyle paused and swallowed hard. "You want me to shoot someone?"

"Only if necessary," Bodie replied insipidly. 

"I couldn't do that," Doyle said, stunned.

"Listen, Doyle. Your life could depend on it. Understand?"

Doyle looked at Bodie then back down at the weapon again. He nodded numbly, wondering if he really could shoot someone to save his own life. Bodie quickly demonstrated how to release the safety on the gun before placing it back on the seat next to Doyle. He watched Bodie hurry towards the building, and the farther away Bodie got, the more anxious Doyle began to feel. He glanced around the near empty car park, looking for anyone who appeared threatening. There were a few people about, however, they were too involved in their own business to pay Doyle any mind. A feeling of being very much alone and isolated bore down on him and he prayed that Bodie would be back soon.

It felt like Bodie had been gone for hours, when in actuality he'd only been inside the cafe for about fifteen minutes. Doyle breathed a sigh of relief when Bodie got back into the truck, handed over the paper bag of food and holstered his weapon. 

"Got egg sandwiches and sausage," Bodie said while Doyle removed their meal from the bag. "The coffee is mine. You get juice until that rubbish is totally out of your system."

"Yes, sir," Doyle growled, and attempted to throw the sausage at Bodie's head instead of eating it. 

Bodie just gave Doyle a lopsided grin and took a big bite out of his sandwich.

***

Bodie turned the Range Rover onto the narrow gravel road. When the vehicle hit a nasty hole, he stole a glance at Doyle. Doyle released a small groan, but remained asleep.

After eating a decent breakfast, Doyle had curled up against the passenger door and drifted off before Bodie had a chance to convince him to cooperate with CI5.

They had finally arrived at the safe house, where they would meet up with at least a half dozen others – CI5, military and other government agents – who would pressure Doyle into helping them.

_It's the right thing to do,_ Bodie thought. Hell, it was the only thing to do as far as he was concerned. They would never find The Hive without some decent intelligence and right now, Doyle was the only shot they had.

Without a doubt, Bodie wanted those terrorist bastards dead, but it did bother him that Doyle would be used in a game where he didn't even know the rules.

After pulling into the drive at the back of the old farmhouse, he cut the engine and glanced around. The second he had driven onto the property, Bodie knew they were being tracked by the scopes of at least four sharpshooters. It was a relief to know that these guys were on their side. This was the safest place for Doyle to be.

Bodie scanned the area one last time and was able make out one marksman on the roof and another just inside the tree line. Looking back at the house, he noticed Cowley standing in the window, behind him stood two suited men. He had hoped to have seen Murphy and Jax with Cowley. It would have been nice to have his old mates and fellow agents at his back for this op. Would have definitely made him feel a whole lot better about moving Doyle around in the open.

He turned his attention to Doyle and rested a hand lightly on the other man's shoulder. "Rise and shine, professor." 

Doyle stirred, opened his eyes and yawned widely. "We here?" he asked sleepily.

"Yeah. We need to get you inside where it's safe. I don't like just sitting here."

"All right." Doyle stretched then reached for the door handle.

"No. Keep the door closed. I'll come around to get you."

"I am perfectly capable of opening the door myself."

"I know. And you're also perfectly capable of getting shot in the head while standing out there without me to cover you."

Bodie's tone was harsh, much harsher than he had intended, but he couldn't let himself care if he offended Doyle or not. The only thing he needed to care about was protecting Doyle – no matter what.

Quickly, Bodie moved around the Rover to open the car door for Doyle. With one hand planted firmly on his weapon, he put an arm around Doyle's shoulders, feeling the fine tremors coursing through him. As they moved towards the house, Bodie was careful to shield Doyle with his own body by pulling him tightly against his side. If there was a sniper taking aim on them, then Bodie was determined that he'd take the bullet, not Doyle. 

Bodie tried his best to ignore the way Doyle felt against him, but it was a hopeless feat. He revelled in Doyle's closeness, the way they melded together so perfectly. It was the kind of fit that had Bodie wondering just how well the rest of them would fit together.

All of a sudden, he found himself wanting to whisk Doyle away to a place where no one would ever find him. He desperately wanted to erase that look of fear and uncertainty from the large green eyes. Bodie wished he could go back in time and kill every single member of The Hive before they'd managed to spread like a disease – before they could threaten Doyle's safety and ruin his life.

As much as he wanted those things, he knew all of that was impossible. He couldn't change what had already happened. All he could do was protect Doyle to the best of his ability.

Doyle had no idea what he was about to go through once he was inside the house. He would be questioned, pressured, manipulated. Whatever Cowley and the others felt they needed to do to gain Doyle's cooperation, they'd do it.

The urge to protect Doyle burned even stronger within Bodie, and along with wanting to guard Doyle's life, he also wanted to protect the other man's comfort as well. What Doyle was about to go through would not be comfortable, and that angered Bodie. More than anything, he wanted to spare Doyle the gruelling ordeal of being interrogated.

Bodie couldn't do that, though, and he wouldn't be allowed in the interrogation room with Doyle either. This was the last chance for Bodie to give what little support he could offer, Right now, the best thing he could do was arm Doyle so the man could fight his own battles. Doyle's knowledge and skills were weapons – very formidable weapons.

"Don't let them scare you in there," Bodie told Doyle in a low whisper against his ear. "Remember, you're the one who has something they want. You have power. You're in control."

Doyle quickly looked at Bodie, surprise shining in his eyes. From that split-second glance, Bodie knew that Doyle understood, and he was relieved that Doyle was smart enough that he didn't need help connecting the dots.

The door in front of them opened and they hurried inside. Instantly, Doyle was surrounded by Cowley and a group of men in suits then was whisked away to a room down the hall where the interrogation would begin.

***

Doyle shifted on the hard wooden chair, trying to find a more comfortable position while waiting for the next round of questioning to begin. They had been at this for hours and the routine was starting to get old. He was tired of answering the same questions over and over. He was tired of sitting in the same dingy room with a bunch of men who looked at him as either a freak or a tool. But most of all, he was just plain tired. His leg ached where he'd been shot with the dart, his mouth was dry, and his nerves were frayed.

While Doyle, once again, repeated to the suited men the events that occurred the night before, the reality of his situation began to truly sink in. He had been hunted down and attacked. On the plus side, the men who had attacked him wanted him alive, however, knowing that didn't do much to make him feel any better.

The door to the room opened once again and the older man, the one who had stayed in the shadows while the suits had questioned him, came in, followed closely by Bodie. Doyle's heart jumped with relief at the sight of Bodie.

Bodie – the only familiar face in a sea of strangers. 

Doyle found himself gripping the edge of the chair to stop himself from rushing over to Bodie's side. Sure, Doyle didn't really know Bodie. Had no idea if Bodie was the man's first name or last. Didn't even know whom Bodie worked for, but he was a comforting presence compared to the men who had come and gone from this room all day long. Men who had been trying to convince Doyle to give them what they wanted – something Doyle was not willing to give.

Bodie came closer and placed a glass of water on the table in front of Doyle, meeting his eyes before moving to lean back against the wall.

The man with Bodie stepped up to Doyle and extended a hand. "George Cowley."

Doyle shot a glance to Bodie, and at Bodie's slight nod, he decided to stand and shake Cowley's hand.

Cowley lifted a surprised eyebrow as he noticed the exchange between Doyle and Bodie, but said nothing about it. Instead he turned to the interrogators and told them to leave the room. Cowley waited until it was only himself, Doyle and Bodie left before he turned his attention back to Doyle.

"Would you like to take a break? A trip to the loo, perhaps?"

Doyle shook his head. He just wanted this whole thing to be over.

"Please. Sit down," Cowley said, motioning to the chair.

"I'd rather not," Doyle replied. "Me bum has fallen asleep and I'd like to stretch my legs."

"Aye, lad, that's fine." Cowley slid into the seat across from where Doyle had been sitting and placed a folder on the table. 

"Already told you what happened last night, Mr Cowley." Doyle walked around the small room, glad to be up and moving again. "I'm sure Bodie can corroborate my story."

"I'm not interested in that, Mr Doyle."

Halfway through his second trip around the room, Doyle stopped, straightened his shoulders and looked the imposing man straight in the eyes. "Then the answer to all your other questions is no."

Cowley leaned forward, rested his arms on the table, laced fingers together and met Doyle's stare. "No?"

"No." Doyle shook his head. "As in, no, I won't work for you. No, I won't finish developing those encryption algorithms. That about covers everything, does it not?"

"Doyle," Bodie said in a low, coaxing voice. "Don't be stubborn. Just listen to him."

Doyle glanced across the room at Bodie. Bodie looked knackered, worried, and Doyle wondered if Bodie had stayed up all last night watching out for him – protecting him. He did want to repay Bodie for his help, except Doyle couldn't bring himself to compromise his own principles.

Looking away from the two men, Doyle briefly closed his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he conceded and prepared himself for more hours of interrogation. "All right. I'll listen. Just don't expect me to suddenly change my mind because you keep asking the same questions. I may be tired of answering, but my answers won't change."

Cowley nodded, and Doyle thought he saw a look of respect flash across the older man's eyes. "How far did you get with the encryption algorithms – the ones you were offered the grant money to develop?" Cowley inquired.

Doyle sent a fleeting look at Bodie, suddenly remembering what Bodie had told him. That they wanted something from Doyle. That Doyle was in a position of power. He was smart, and perhaps he could figure out a way to play that to his advantage.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he regarded Cowley. "Before I answer anything, I want to know who you work for."

A faint, indulgent smile tugged at Cowley's mouth. "I am the controller of CI5."

Doyle frowned. "CI5?"

"We're an organisation dedicated to fighting terrorism and crime-related activities in the UK," Cowley explained.

"And Bodie-"

"Works for me."

Satisfied with those answers, Doyle then asked, "Who were those men who broke into my house?"

Cowley shook his head. "Now you answer my question. How far had you progressed in your development?"

"More than halfway." It was a vague enough answer. Truthful, yet holding no real information.

_Oh, yes,_ Doyle thought. _I can definitely play this game._

"How long would it take to complete the work?" asked Cowley.

"Who were those men?" countered Doyle.

"They were members of a terrorist group." Cowley's eyes twinkled, appearing pleased that he had matched Doyle's vagueness.

Doyle held back his sigh of frustration. At this rate, they were going to be here all night, and neither one of them would obtain any useful information. Doyle decided to give in a little, hoping Cowley would do the same. "It would take me two more months to complete the work."

"And if you were to be given a different sample of text? How long would that take?"

Doyle shrugged. "Can't say without seeing it."

Cowley opened the folder in front of him, pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across to Doyle's side of the table. Curious, Doyle moved back to his chair and sat down. When he looked at the page, his heart began to pound with excitement. Once, a few years ago, he'd seen something similar from a Russian professor that he had been working with at the university. The symbols were the same, but their use was completely different. Doyle could already make out a very complex pattern among the flowing symbols. It was something vague and elusive, but definitely there.

"This isn't just text," Doyle stated. "It's mathematically based as well."

Cowley frowned. "How can you tell? You've only just looked at it."

"These symbols here," Doyle pointed them out on the paper, "lead me to believe that their sequence and placement are variables in some kind of equation – or equations."

Doyle noticed Cowley share a guarded look with Bodie. "Now we know why they wanted him," Bodie spoke up. "The Hive must have figured out there was a mathematical angle and knew Doyle was one of the few who could figure it out."

Doyle's finger's twitched, yearning to grab hold of the paper and study the symbols more closely. This was exactly the type of puzzle that he loved to solve. It was a true challenge. Doyle always loved working on something that was this exigent and thought-provoking. Before he could begin to see a pattern, though, Cowley took away the paper, slipping it back into the file folder.

"We need you, Mr Doyle. I've had a team working on this for months, and they haven't got nearly as far as you have in only a few seconds."

"Think I can do better than your team, do you?" Doyle asked.

"You already have, laddie. This is important."

"How important?"

"This text contains the location of several… misplaced weapons from the Cold War."

War. _So it's come back to the military again,_ thought Doyle.

He tamped down on his disappointment when he realised he would never get the chance to see that text again. Wasn't going to be able to tear it apart into the correct pieces, then put it back together again so that it all made sense.

"Wish I could help," Doyle said, meaning it. "But I won't get involved in military projects. I can never be assured my work won't be used offensively."

As the room filled with a palpable tension, Doyle saw both men clench their jaws in frustration.

"We need to have the solution to this text, Mr Doyle," persisted Cowley.

"Then I suggest you start looking for another expert, Mr Cowley."

Cowley leaned forward and Doyle could sense a frightening quality in him that would make even a man as strong as Bodie show respect. "If I don't get your cooperation, then I can no longer protect you. You'll be on your own. No doubt you'll be captured within days, if not hours. The men who take you will ensure that you do this work by any means necessary." Doyle felt his stomach drop, true fear slithering down his spine. Before he could say anything, Cowley continued, "This is not a game, Mr Doyle. This is a matter of national security. Neither I, nor the men out in the other room, will let you fall into enemy hands. You're simply too dangerous." Bodie stepped forwards, but Cowley held out a hand to stop him.

"I would never help them," Doyle protested adamantly. 

"You would. In the end, you would. You're not trained to resist torture. They would find your weakness and use it. And once you served your purpose, you would no longer be of any use to them. They'd kill you." 

Cowley's last few words hung heavily in the air, cold and thick. Doyle's chest tightened in fear. He didn't want to die. Didn't want to endure torture and help an enemy of his country. But more than that, Doyle didn't want to be the cause of the death of countless others. He knew now, more than ever, that his work could be twisted into something dangerous – something deadly.

It was the hardest thing Doyle ever had to do, but he took a deep breath, looked Cowley in the eye and said, "I'm sorry. I can't help you."

***

In all the time that Bodie had worked for Cowley, he had never seen his boss so disconcerted. Cowley was a man who hid his emotions well, so it was odd that he would suddenly become so transparent.

Bodie didn't like it when things were odd. Because that meant two things, either he was being played, or something was really wrong. He just didn't know which one it was – yet.

"You've got to admire Doyle for his determination," Bodie said, watching Doyle on the monitor by means of a hidden camera. Doyle was sitting down, elbows on the table, head resting in his hands. His body language spoke of a man who was beyond exhausted – of a man very much alone. Bodie bit back a curse and looked away, trying to control the nearly overpowering need to rush back into the room and somehow comfort Doyle.

"Aye, he is a stubborn lad," Cowley replied. "And it just might be the death of him."

Bodie's body tensed. "Surely you don't intend to let anyone kill him."

"This is big, Bodie. There's only so much I can do. The man's knowledge is too dangerous. The British government won't let Doyle fall into enemy hands. If he refuses to cooperate, he'll be executed as a threat to national security."

"What?" bellowed Bodie. "They can't do that!" Rage bubbled just below the surface, along with something else – something deadly. There was no way in hell he was going to let Doyle die. He had brought Doyle here for protection. Bodie would kill anyone who tried to harm him.

"They will if we don't convince Doyle to help."

Bodie release a string of vile curses.

"Aye. I agree, 3.7."

Bodie took a long look at Cowley. He respected the man more than almost anyone, yet Cowley stood there, talking about Doyle being killed as if it were just another op. Bodie almost felt sorry for Cowley and all the shit he must have lived through to make him hard enough inside to be so casual about killing. Instead, Bodie found himself hating the man for even thinking of hurting someone as innocent as Ray Doyle. 

Bodie had spent most of his life killing and suffering to protect the innocent. Yes, he had done some horrible things in Africa, things that still haunted him to this very day. And, yes, there were times when he wanted to throw it all away and find a different line of work. But in the end, he knew what he did was the right thing. He killed scum so that the innocent could live.

And now Cowley was talking about killing one of those innocents whom Bodie had devoted his life to protecting. Somehow, that put the two of them on opposite sides of an invisible line. Bodie stepped away from Cowley, unable to look him in the eye without giving away the burning anger that flooded his gut.

Cowley walked up to him and patted Bodie on the shoulder. "We've still got time to change his mind," said Cowley.

"You've already threatened Doyle with torture and death, and he still hasn't come around. What the hell else do you think will work?"

"Think, man. You were with him longer than anyone here. You must have some idea of how to convince him."

Bodie searched his memory trying to come up with some weakness in Doyle's armour. Doyle didn't have a wife or kiddies, for which Bodie was grateful for they would have been used as a pawn. The two weeks of gathered intel that Bodie had read on Doyle said he didn't go out much. Went to work, came back home with an occasional trip to the shops or library. Doyle's mum was still alive and he did have a younger sister. Both those family members lived up north, but threatening to harm them wouldn't make Doyle warm up to the idea of agreeing to help.

Bodie ran a hand over his short, dark hair. The only thing he could think of at the moment was the way Doyle's eyes lit up when he had looked at the paper Cowley had shown him. Maybe they could entice Doyle enough to get him interested in solving the puzzle just for the sake of knowing the answer.

Of course, even if Doyle did break the code, would he present it in a format that would be useful to CI5 and all involved? Just because the man knew the answer didn't mean he had to share.

Bodie released a sigh of frustration and scratched at the stubble of his day old beard. There had to be something he was missing. He didn't know Doyle well, but there had to be some way to convince the man.

That code would tell them the location of weapons, including several nuclear warheads, which had been hidden by the Russians during the Cold War. It was the reason why The Hive was so intent on breaking the code before anyone else. 

Time was running out and Bodie had to quickly find a way to weaken Doyle's resolve. There was only one thing Bodie could do, yet just the thought of it made him break out in a cold sweat. His past was not a very friendly place. If he were to share it with Doyle then Doyle would know how horribly Bodie had failed. And even if he did reveal his mistakes, bared his soul, it still might not be enough.

Bodie released a sigh, knowing he had no choice. He had to try. Whatever it took to protect Doyle, Bodie would do it. Even if that included facing his past again.

***

Doyle's leg was aching, but not nearly as much as his head. To add to his discomfort, the temperature of the room was cold, causing his body to shiver. In an attempt to warm his bare arms, he wrapped his hands around them and began to rub briskly. God, what he wouldn't give to have a warm bath, a hot cuppa and pretend that none of this had ever happened. He shivered again, this time enveloping his upper body with his arms. Hell, he'd just be happy with a blanket. 

A thought floated through his mind. He contemplated the idea that this was, perhaps, some sort of interrogation technique to make him feel as uncomfortable as possible so he'd be more willing to get out of here by giving them what they wanted. Ha! He wasn't about to give in that easily.

Getting up from the chair, Doyle paced the room and wondered if Bodie was still in the house. Out of all the people he'd had to deal with over the past twenty-four hours, Bodie was the only one to show the least bit of kindness.

Doyle's head throbbed harder and he brought his hands up to massage his temples. Walking over to the door, he tried the knob, and wasn't at all surprised to find it locked. Raising a fist, he pounded a few times on the wooden structure. "Hello!" he yelled. "May I have some aspirin?" When no one answered, Doyle sighed and moved to the other side of the room. He sat down in a chair, resigning himself to either die from freezing to death or from an exploding head.

Just then the door opened and Bodie walked in with a glass of water in one hand and a folder in the other. Doyle's stomach fluttered at the sight of him. Bodie's face showed the shadow of a beard and though Doyle could see signs of fatigue under the blue eyes, Bodie held himself tall, as if he would keep on going until it was convenient to stop. The expression that Doyle saw on Bodie's face gave him some hope that his situation might not be as bad as he'd thought.

He suddenly found himself wishing that Bodie would touch him again like he'd done at the lodge. Something as simple as an arm around his shoulders would go a long way toward making Doyle believe that he was going to make it through this.

Bodie closed the door, came closer to Doyle and placed the glass of water along with two white tablets in front of him. 

"Ta," Doyle said and quickly washed the pills down.

Bodie took off the leather jacket he'd been wearing and draped it around Doyle's shoulders. The warmth that clung to material from Bodie's body seeped into his skin and Doyle sighed in relief. The jacket smelt like Bodie. Doyle breathed in deeply, the rich, spicy scent comforting him as well as soothing his nerves.

"What's going to happen to me?" Doyle asked.

Bodie grabbed a chair, moved it beside Doyle and sat down. "I won't lie to you. It doesn't look good. They want this code broken before anyone else."

"They're really going to kill me, aren't they? That wasn't just a trick to get me to cooperate."

Bodie's steady blue gaze slid away and silence stretched out between them. 

Doyle had his answer.

"How long?" Doyle whispered.

"I don't know what their plans are for you, exactly." Shifting his body slightly, Bodie held up two fingers then four on a hand hidden from the camera that was set up in the corner of the room. 

_Twenty-four. Was that days or hours?_

Once he met Bodie's eyes, Doyle knew. He had twenty-four hours to live.

His heart began to race and the room started to fade away as his fate loomed large before him.

At this time tomorrow, he'd be dead.

It was all so surreal. Now that he knew it was going to happen, it was almost as bad as when he'd been clueless. At least then he could pretend that things were going to work out okay.

"I don't want to die, but I will if I have to. I won't let you use my work as a weapon."

Bodie's jaw clenched and his lips pressed tightly together. "Listen, Doyle, not everything we do is about killing. We do keep the country safe. We protect people."

"But you do kill," Doyle stated.

"When it's necessary."

"And who gets to decide that?"

Bodie scrubbed a hand over his head and took a deep breath as though to calm himself. "There are a lot of bad people out there. It's not exactly something we broadcast on the nightly news if we can help it. We like for the public to not have to worry about whether or not they're going to end up dead in ways they can never imagine."

"You keep saying 'we'. Tell me, Bodie, are you one of those people who get to choose between life and death for another human being?"

Bodie exploded out of his chair. "Yes, I am, damn it! I've had men in my rifle sights and pulled the trigger. I've set explosions in buildings knowing that everyone inside will be blown to hell. I've even killed with my bare hands. It's nothing for me to break a man's neck or choke the life out of a body." Bodie turned, leaned one hand on the table and glared at Doyle, blue eyes frigid with anger. "And I'm not sorry. I knew what those men did. I knew what they'd be capable of doing had they lived."

Doyle shifted back in his chair, attempting to put some distance between himself and Bodie's anger, yet even in the face of such rage, Doyle did not fear him. "It's still wrong, Bodie. Killing is wrong."

Studying him intently, Bodie placed a file folder directly in front of Doyle. His voice lowered yet the coldness remained. "No, Doyle, you're the one who's wrong." With that, Bodie opened the folder to reveal a stack of eight by ten coloured photographs. 

Doyle gasped in horror when Bodie spread the photos over the table. There were pictures of people beaten and mutilated so badly they were nearly unrecognizable. Dead men, women, children, and two babies. Pictures of severed ears, fingers, tongues, even half a penis.

Doyle fought the urge not to vomit. Never in his life had he seen anything so horrific. His body began to shake and he broke into a cold sweat as his mind struggled to understand what Bodie was showing him. 

These photos couldn't be real. How could anyone perform such hideous acts?

"This," Bodie said in a quiet, pain-filled voice, pointing at the pictures. "This is what those men I killed have done."

Doyle didn't want to look, except he couldn't stop himself. His stomach twisted painfully as he forced himself to face the images of death and violence and evil. 

He knew everything about these were real. Real men and women. Real children. 

When Doyle's vision blurred, he blinked back the moisture and looked up at Bodie. There was no way he could miss the anguish that burned in the blue eyes. 

"And this one." Bodie's voice was nearly a whisper and tinged with grief. With an unsteady hand, Bodie showed Doyle a set of photographs of what had once been a very handsome, young blond man. "His name was Nicolas. He was only twenty-five years old." 

In one of the pictures, Nicolas was bound to a metal chair by ropes around both wrists and ankles. He was naked and covered with cuts and bruises, and there was a large pool of blood under his chair. Another pictured showed deep slashes along Nicolas' blood stained chest and arms. And in a third, mutilated hands, and a table with fingers lying neatly in a row.

"Nicolas was my partner... my lover." Bodie's voice wavered. He cleared his throat before continuing, "The Hive did that to him. CI5 was closing in on their organisation, so they kidnapped Nicky. They beat him, raped and tortured him. They sent me the bracelet I had bought him, along with one of his fingers."

It was the quiet grief in Bodie's voice that made Doyle look at him. He could easily see Bodie had loved Nicolas – had loved him deeply and those bastards had mutilated him… murdered him.

Suddenly, all those people in the photos became very real, not just images on paper. They had parents, brothers and sisters, and friends who had loved them. They'd laughed and cried. They were people who had been alive. And now they had been turned into something too grotesque to ever imagine. 

Looking into Bodie's eyes, Doyle could see all the pain, regret and self-hatred inside him. Somehow, Doyle knew that Bodie felt like he should have saved his lover from such a gruesome fate. And there was no doubt in Doyle's mind that Bodie had done everything humanly possible to protect the man he loved.

"This is what we're fighting, Doyle," Bodie said quietly. "This is why we need your help. Without you, The Hive will find those weapons and they won't hesitate to use them. More people will die. You're the only one who can stop that from happening."

Doyle glanced down at the photos again. Bodie was right. Whoever had done this needed to be stopped before they killed again. No matter how ugly or horrible the task, someone needed to do it. But Doyle wasn't sure if he was strong enough to be the person to help accomplish that job.

The blank, glazed over eyes of the dead stared back at him, appearing to plead with him to help. When he focused on the picture of Nicolas, the man's light blue eyes bore into him as though begging Doyle to save his lover from his own prison of grief and self-loathing. 

It all became too much for Doyle to handle. He bolted from the table, dropped to his knees and bent over the small rubbish bin, vomiting. He gulped in air, trying to breathe, attempting to force out all the horrible images swirling around in his head. Except nothing helped and he couldn't stop his stomach from heaving again. 

Immediately, Bodie was there, kneeling behind him. He put one hand on Doyle's shoulder and the other went around to Doyle's stomach, rubbing in light circles to help alleviate the cramping. Bodie said nothing, but just the touch from the other man was enough to allow Doyle to regain control.

Gradually, Doyle was able to breathe normally again and he leaned back against Bodie's chest. He briefly closed his eyes when Bodie's hand moved from his shoulder to brush the curly, sweat-damp hair back from his face.

"I'm sorry, Bodie. I didn't know," Doyle said.

"I know." Bodie's arm tightened, holding Doyle close, comforting him. "I'm sorry you had to see those pictures."

"Did you kill those men who did… _that_ … to Nicolas?"

Doyle felt Bodie's body tense, felt every muscle in his chest going taut, yet Bodie didn't move away. "I thought I did, but I was wrong. There's at least one left. Perhaps more."

"So The Hive is active again," Doyle guessed.

"Yes," Bodie replied, his voice tight with hatred.

Doyle had no idea how difficult it must have been for Bodie to lose his lover in such a horrifyingly violent way. And he wondered what sort of strength Bodie must possess to be able to go on after something like that.

"The Hive needs to be eliminated," Bodie said. "I can't do that without your help."

Unable to turn away from Bodie's plea, Doyle braced himself for what he had to do. Something had to be done to stop those murderous bastards. Perhaps Bodie was right and the only way to stop them was to kill every last one of them.

As much as Doyle hated the idea of arming the military or CI5 with the knowledge that could be used offensively, he knew he had to be strong like Bodie. He would have to do something he despised because it was necessary. 

Moving away from Bodie, he shifted around on the floor so they were face to face. "Can you give me your word that my work won't be used against anyone other than The Hive?"

Bodie nodded. "I will do everything within my power."

"And if I give Cowley what he wants, can you promise me he'll let me go afterwards?"

Bodie's eyes lowered. "No. I'm sorry, I can't. But if they don't let you go, I'll break you out of wherever they're holding you." He gave Doyle a feral grin. "Even if it kills me."

"No, Bodie." Doyle pinned him with a fierce stare. "I won't let you die for me. I'm not worth the price of your life."

"You're a lot more valuable than you think." Bodie spoke quietly, his expression softening.

"So are you," Doyle told him.

"Does that mean you'll help me?"

Even more than helping to break the code, Doyle wanted to help Bodie recover from losing Nicolas. He wasn't sure how he would do it, but he was going to do his best to prove to Bodie that his lover's death wasn't his fault.

"Yes, mate," Doyle replied. "It does."

***

Doyle rested his forehead against his folded arms on the table top and closed his eyes. He was way beyond exhausted now. Before he made any attempt to crack the code, he'd need at least a few hours of sleep.

The lock on the door clicked, causing Doyle to jump and sit up. He had started to dread the opening of that door because every time it opened it seemed like things only got worse. He let out a small sigh of relief when it was Bodie who walked into the room.

"Is it time to leave?" Doyle inquired.

"Not yet." Bodie stood in the doorway, his gaze roaming over Doyle, and Doyle couldn't stop the little shiver of pleasure that flowed through him. "Thought you might like a cuppa and a bite to eat."

"Some tea would be wonderful." Doyle smiled.

"Come on." Bodie gestured for Doyle to follow and led the way to a room farther down the hall.

This room was a big improvement from the stark one he'd just left. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow and the floor covered in dark blue carpeting. Opposite the door was a single bed as well as a small white table with two chairs. He walked over, took a seat and stared at the soup and sandwich that had been provided considering if his queasy stomach could handle eating right now.

As though reading his mind, Bodie said, "The tea and chicken soup should help settle your stomach. Mind, if you don't want the sandwich, hand it over here." Bodie grinned and Doyle found himself smiling back.

Picking up the cup, Doyle took a grateful sip of the tea. After a few more swallows, his stomach did feel slightly better. Covertly, through lowered eyelashes, he glanced across the table at Bodie and just the sight of him helped ease Doyle's tension. As unnerving as this situation was, Bodie was Doyle's one and only constant. There was something in the other man's steady strength and unwavering honesty that gave Doyle comfort.

"In about an hour you'll be taken somewhere where you can work," Bodie explained before biting into his sandwich.

"Where will they take me?"

"I haven't been told yet, but I assure you it'll be some place safe. The Hive won't be able to get to you."

"That sure, are you?"

Blue eyes lowered to the soup bowl and instead of answering Doyle's question, Bodie said, "You should eat something, Doyle. There's no telling how long it'll be before you get another meal."

Doyle glared at Bodie for a second then gave in, reaching for the soup spoon. Before he knew it, the bowl was empty and his stomach felt full. Knowing he wouldn't be able to eat the sandwich, he slid his plate over to Bodie.

"Oh, ta, mate." Bodie snatched up the ham sandwich, making quick work of devouring it. Doyle noticed Bodie'd already finished his soup and polished off two other sandwiches.

"You'd better be careful, sunshine, or you'll lose that lean physique," Doyle said with a grin, patting his own belly.

"What?" Bodie asked innocently around a mouthful of food. "I’m a growing boy, I am."

"Yeah." Doyle smiled widely. "You'll be growing all right. Growing outwards." Doyle brought his arms out from his sides and puffed out his cheeks in a gesture of gaining weight. 

Bodie smirked and popped the last bit of bread into his mouth. "I'll have you know, I have a high metabolism. I'm burning off calories just sitting here."

Doyle laughed. God, it felt good to just sit there and banter back and forth with Bodie, and forget about his mess of a life for a little while. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off by a tremendous boom, followed by the violent rattling of walls and the shouting of voices.

In the blink of an eye, Bodie was on his feet, gun drawn. His face changed into something feral, predatory – something deadly. This was not the friendly, easy going man Doyle had witnessed only seconds ago. This was the other side of Bodie – the CI5 agent. The killer.

Bodie rushed to Doyle's side, clicked the safety off the gun and shoved the weapon into Doyle's hands. "Stay here. If anyone you haven't seen today comes through that door, point and pull the trigger. Understand."

Doyle stared down at the gun, unable to answer. Hands grasped his shoulders and shook him none too gently.

"Doyle! Do you understand?" Bodie yelled.

"I can't..." Doyle started to say, then swallowed and looked at Bodie. "Yes. Okay."

Their eyes met for less than a heartbeat, and an understanding passed between them. With a nod Bodie turned and hurried out the door, another weapon already in his hand.

The weight of the gun was heavy and Doyle's fingers tingled where they touched the cold metal. He had never held a weapon before, and shockingly, he tried to ignore how good it felt to have it in his hand.

Quickly glancing around the room, he looked for a place that could be used for cover. If anyone was to come into the room, he didn't want to be standing out in the open like he was now. Seeing the table, he turned it onto its side, spilling the contents onto the floor. He then crouched down behind the barrier, propping the gun up on the edge – and waited.

If The Hive was here, there was no way in hell Doyle was going to let them take him alive.

***

Bodie rushed into the sitting room. The area was filled with dense smoke and it took a moment before he was able to spot Cowley. 

"Bodie! You're alive!" Cowley shouted as Bodie neared. "And Doyle?"

"He's fine, sir. What the hell happened?"

"A Grenade launcher. Went right into the interrogation room. I expected to find you both dead."

"I happened to move Doyle into another room before the explosion." A tremor shot through Bodie. If he hadn't thought that Doyle might like a change of scenery while he ate, they'd both be dead right now. "Someone knew where we were holding Doyle," Bodie stated.

"Aye, 3.7. I want you to get him out of here!" Cowley had to shout to be heard over a volley of gunfire. "And, Bodie?"

"Sir?"

"You do whatever it takes to keep him alive." Cowley reached into his pocket and handed Bodie the paper containing the cybertext. "I'll order the men to cover your exit. You've got ninety seconds to get out."

"Yes, sir. I'll contact you when I can." 

Bodie turned away and ran in a low crouch back towards Doyle. Before he entered the room, he announced his presence with a shout to be sure he wouldn't accidentally get shot. He found Doyle crouched behind the over-turned table with the gun pointed right at Bodie's head. Bodie couldn't help grinning at Doyle's fierce expression. The man might be a peaceful genius, but he was no coward.

"We're getting out of here." Keeping one eye on the door, Bodie offered a hand and pulled Doyle to his feet. Doyle stumbled against him. If the situation had been different, Bodie might have wrapped his arms around Doyle and enjoyed the feel of the warm, firm body. But things weren't different and the gunfire outside wasn't going to cease any time soon. He had only forty-two seconds left until Cowley ordered the other agents to lay down cover fire.

"We're going out the same way we came in," Bodie quickly told Doyle, removing the gun from Doyle's shaky hand. "Stay behind me, keep your head down. Don't stop moving unless I tell you to." 

"Don't let them take me alive." Doyle's voice trembled.

Bodie understood exactly what Doyle was saying. Rather than be taken by The Hive, Doyle would rather die. He was a much braver man than Bodie ever expected him to be and he respected Doyle for that. There was no time left for Bodie to explain that he'd die before letting any of those bastards get their hands on Doyle. 

"Come on." Bodie led the way out of the room and down the hall. When they arrived at the kitchen, a loud blast of cover fire began. He tugged Doyle against his side and with gun at the ready, manoeuvred them out the back door. As soon as they reached the Range Rover, Bodie flung the passenger door open and pushed Doyle inside. "Keep your head down!" Bodie shouted before slamming the door shut. He rushed around the back of the vehicle just as an armed gunman came around the side of the house. The man got off two shots before Bodie's bullet caught him mid-chest with deadly accuracy. Bodie was in the Rover with the key in the ignition before the dead man even hit the ground. He swung the vehicle around and a few seconds later they were careening down the gravel drive as though the hounds of hell were snapping at their heels.

***

They had been driving for hours when Bodie finally turned off the motorway. A while ago, Doyle had lost track of where they were and with the cloak of darkness surrounding them, he felt vulnerable and a little edgy. The few houses along this stretch of road were set far back, hidden behind trees and bushes.

"Are we close?" Doyle asked. They were the first words that had been spoken since they'd left the farmhouse. Bodie had remained silent, concentrating on driving, checking the rear-view mirror often for anyone who may be tailing them. 

"A few more miles," Bodie replied, his eyes flicking back to the mirror again.

"Are we being followed?"

"Perhaps." Doyle didn't miss the tightening of Bodie's hands on the steering wheel, nor the bunching of jaw muscles. "I don't see anyone, but my gut tells me that they're out there."

Turning around, Doyle peered into the darkness stretching out behind them. Unable to spot any headlights in the distance, he settled back in his seat and positioned himself so he could surreptitiously watch Bodie. The faint glow of the dashboard lights highlighted the masculine features while they deepened the weary circles under Bodie's eyes. Doyle knew that Bodie was knackered, yet nothing in his demeanour gave that away. Every movement was professional. Confident. Controlled. 

Doyle yawned widely then looked at his watch. It was just past midnight and he was spent. Beyond spent. He tried to remember the last time he'd slept. Last night? Two nights ago? Hell, it felt more like months ago. And as far as he knew, Bodie'd not slept either.

"Want me to take over driving for a while?" Doyle asked.

Bodie's eyes slid over to Doyle, settling on him for a second before he was greeted with a tired smile. "Thanks, mate, but no. Why don't you grab a kip? It'll be another hour before we're there."

"Where is there?"

"Another safe house."

"Terrific." Doyle rolled his eyes. "Think this one will actually be safe?"

"For a while."

Doyle sighed, getting tired of Bodie's vague answers. "How long is a while?"

"Get some sleep. Let me worry about that part."

"Easier said than done, mate," Doyle muttered. He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. 

A hand came to rest on the top of Doyle's thigh and gave a gentle squeeze. His eyes shot open and he glanced down at the hand then up at Bodie, meeting blue eyes that flared with determination. "I'm going to get you through this alive, Doyle," Bodie vowed before he removed his hand and focused back on the road. 

Even though Doyle didn't know Bodie very well, there was one thing he knew for certain – the man meant every word he said.

After a long, quiet moment, Doyle reached out to lay a hand on Bodie's shoulder. The heat from Bodie's body warmed his chilled fingers. He had to fight back the urge to tighten his grip; to feel the hard muscles beneath his palm.

"Thanks," Doyle said quietly.

"What for?" Bodie asked, his concentration not wavering from the road ahead.

"For being here."

The shoulder Doyle was still touching rose in a shrug, reminding him to move his hand away. "Just doing my job."

"Yeah, well, thanks for showing up for work." Doyle grinned. His reward was a low chuckle from Bodie. 

***

Doyle was just drifting off to sleep when he felt the vehicle begin to slow down. When he opened his eyes, he noticed they had turned onto a narrow drive. A second later, Bodie switched off the headlights, plunging them into darkness.

Although Doyle tensed, he remained silent, trusting that Bodie knew what he was doing. Once his eyes adjusted, he could just make out a thicket of trees up ahead, and nestled inside them, the outline of a small wooden structure. 

Bodie pulled up close to the house, turning the Range Rover around to face down the drive. Made for a quick escape, Doyle suspected.

"I'm going inside to check things out." With expert movements, Bodie removed his gun from its holster, checked the weapon and clicked the safety off, all the while surveying the surrounding area. "Get behind the wheel. If you see anyone else besides me, drive away as fast as you can. When you're clear, pick up this mic," Bodie pointed to the radio located beneath the centre of the dash, "press the button on the side, ask for Cowley. He'll tell you where to go."

"Just expect me to drive off and leave, do you? What if-" Before Doyle could finish, Bodie cut him off.

"Don't argue with me, Doyle. If you see anyone, assume they're here to kill you."

Doyle's stomach tightened. "What about you?"

"I can take care of meself."

"I won't leave you here to die."

Bodie reached out and cupped Doyle's chin in a warm hand, forcing his head up until their eyes met. "This is not about me. You're the one they're after. I won't let them hurt you. I couldn't stand it if…" Bodie paused and looked away, but Doyle didn't miss the mixture of emotions that flashed across his eyes. "Just do as I say. Understand?" 

Doyle didn't reply, just gave a brief nod. It seemed enough to satisfy Bodie.

"Lock the doors," Bodie said, his fingers sliding away from Doyle's face.

Abruptly, Bodie's focus shifted to their surroundings. He slipped out of the Rover, disappearing around the side of the house. Doyle quickly moved into the driver's seat and watched out the windows for any movement. He prayed that they were alone because he honestly wasn't sure if he'd be able to leave Bodie behind.

A gust of wind suddenly rattled the car, startling Doyle. He wished Bodie would hurry up and come back. Without the other man's presence, he felt exposed – vulnerable. His hands tightly gripped the steering wheel while the minutes crawled by painstakingly slowly. Releasing a shaky breath, he stared into the darkness, looking for any signs of Bodie.

After what felt like an eternity, the front door of the house opened and Bodie stepped out onto the porch. Doyle was so relieved to see him that he had to fight back the urge to fling open the truck door, run to Bodie and hug the stuffing out of him.

Bodie raised his hand, signalling for Doyle come inside. He shut off the motor and pocketed the keys. Then quickly got out of the Rover and hurried over to Bodie's side, once again feeling a small measure of safety.

When Doyle entered the house, Bodie locked the door behind him, casting their surroundings into blackness. Instinctively, Doyle reached towards Bodie. Coming into contact with the hard, warm flesh of an arm, he wrapped his fingers around the muscular bicep, gripping it tightly.

"Easy, sunshine," Bodie said in a low, hushed voice. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Then you won't mind if I hold on, will you?"

Bodie released an amused chuckle. "I'm going to give you a torch. Keep it aimed at the floor, away from the windows. The curtains are drawn, but if a beam of light hits them, it will be noticeable from the outside."

"Got it," Doyle assured.

Doyle's hand was removed from Bodie's arm, and his fingers were guided around the cool, metal handle of the torch. Pointing it towards the floor, Doyle felt for the switch, and slid it forwards, squinting when a stream of light lit up the area around his feet. 

Bodie stepped back, putting a few feet of space between them. "I've got some work to do. I need to make sure this place stays safe. Go get some sleep. You can use the sofa in the lounge." 

Doyle released a quick snort of laughter. "Don't think that's gonna happen, mate. Could help you if you'd like?"

Bodie studied Doyle briefly then nodded. "All right. If you want to help, find us something to eat. I'm starving."

"Is there food here?" Doyle asked.

"Should be plenty of canned goods in the pantry and drinks in the fridge. The kitchen is that way." Bodie pointed to a doorway to Doyle's right.

"Leave it to me." Doyle took a step forward only to be stopped by Bodie's hand on his shoulder.

"Just remember, no lights."

"Right. No lights," Doyle said with a smile. His stomach fluttered when Bodie reached up and gave his curls a slight tousle. Without another word, Bodie turned and left the room.

Keeping the torch pointed at the floor, Doyle made his way into the kitchen. He located the pantry and after a thorough perusal, decided on canned stew. Finding a pot and tin opener, he set to work preparing the stew to heat on the cooker. Next, he went to the refrigerator, took out two Coke cans and set them on the kitchen counter. A search through the cupboards and drawers turned up bowls and spoons. Once Doyle had placed everything on the table, he didn't dare call out to let Bodie know the food was ready, instead, he left the kitchen and went in search of him.

The house was small enough that it only took a few moments to find Bodie in a windowless room in the cellar. A single dim-lit bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed a stash of weapons and ammunition, enough to outfit a small army. Doyle leaned against door frame and watched while Bodie packed box after box of bullets, along with a few hand guns, into a large canvas duffle bag.

"A bit paranoid, eh?" Doyle smirked.

Bodie shot Doyle a quick grin. "That's one way to put it. I prefer the term 'prepared'. But you call it what you like just as long as I don't run out of bullets."

Doyle looked around the room again. Along with the arsenal of weaponry, there was a row of shelves holding non-perishable foods, jugs of water, medical supplies and even petrol. 

"Place looks like a bomb shelter," Doyle stated.

"It was."

"Why don't we hole up here until I break the code?" 

"Would if I thought it safe." Bodie grabbed a box of medical supplies and shoved it into the bulging bag.

"You don't?" 

"No. Someone on the inside knows about you. Was the reason we were attacked today."

"Someone in CI5?" Doyle asked, not able to hide the worry in his voice.

"Could be." A snarl twisted Bodie's mouth. "Or some bloke with the military… or someone higher up."

"How much longer can we stay here?" 

"I'm going to stock the Rover with anything we might need. Then we'll get some food and grab a quick kip." Bodie opened another duffle bag and began filling it with food, water and more medical supplies.

"Think we need all that?"

"Might. If we have to disappear for a while, we'll need it. Don't mind a bit of camping, do you, mate?"

"Not my idea of fun," Doyle said, not liking the idea of having to sleep on the cold, hard ground. "But if that's what we have to do, I'll do it." 

"Good lad." 

The smile Bodie flashed him made Doyle's stomach do that fluttery thing again. "I heated up some stew," he said quickly

"Great." Grabbing a bunch of batteries, Bodie tossed them into the bag before zipping it closed. "I'll stow these in the Rover first." 

"Let me get that, mate." Doyle picked up one of the duffels and heaved it over his shoulder. He climbed the stairs with Bodie close behind him. Once he was at the front door, he paused and turned towards Bodie. He observed Bodie as the man set the two other bags onto the floor. In the dim light, his gaze latched onto the muscles in Bodie's arms and chest. The way they tightened and flexed as he moved. Doyle found himself wanting to reach out and run his hands over every inch of the firm-looking flesh.

"Hand over the keys," Bodie said, bringing Doyle out of his thoughts.

Digging the keys out of his jeans, Doyle handed them over. Their fingers brushed for a brief second and a jolt of desire raced through Doyle's body. He jerked away, looking anywhere except at Bodie. Now was not the time to be thinking of anything other than staying alive. And it certainly wasn't time to be wondering if Bodie was as aware as Doyle was of their being alone in a very isolated, very dark house. Or if Bodie was having the same distracting thoughts as Doyle.

Glancing up, he saw Bodie watching him with those eyes that didn't miss a thing. "You okay, mate?"

"Yeah. Fine. Just knackered," Doyle replied a little too quickly.

Bodie gave him a look that said he knew Doyle was lying, but didn't call him on it. "Back away from the door. Don't want you to be a clear target when I open it."

Doyle hesitated for only a second before he complied. "You think someone's out there?"

"No, just being cautious." 

Before Doyle could argue the fact that it wasn't safe for Bodie either, the man was out the door with all three bags. It wasn't until Bodie returned a few minutes later and was safely inside the house, that Doyle was able to breathe a sigh of relief. 

They went into the kitchen and Bodie made a makeshift lantern by taking a drinking glass, setting it upside down in the centre of the table and resting the torch on top. The soft, low light that was cast over the table top was nearly as intimate as any candlelit dinner, although Doyle didn't find it very relaxing.

Silence filled the room and Doyle was only able to eat as much as the tension in his stomach would allow. 

"Not hungry?" Bodie asked, glancing at Doyle then down at the half empty bowl.

"Can't eat when I'm stressed."

Bodie reached across the small table and briefly rested his hand on Doyle's wrist. "I won't let anything happen to you, Ray."

Doyle did believe him. Believed that Bodie would do whatever it took to keep him alive. He was glad that out of all the men at the farm house, Bodie was the one who had taken the job of protecting him. There wasn't another man alive he trusted more.

"I know," Doyle replied. He then surprised them both by asking, "What was Nicolas like?"

Several emotions flashed across Bodie's face, and Doyle could tell by the expression that remained that Nicolas' death still hurt him badly. He hated to see the look of pain and guilt in Bodie's eyes. He would have given anything to see it wiped away.

"Sorry, mate. Not my business, is it?"

Bodie's jaw muscles tensed and he closed his eyes. The silence became uncomfortable and Doyle was searching for something to say when Bodie spoke quietly. "He was a good man. An honourable man. Was the best partner I could ever ask for… both professionally and personally." Bodie's eyes held a faraway look. "He loved to mess about in the garden on his days off. Had a green thumb. Could grow anything." A wistful smile curved the edges of Bodie's mouth. "He had a wicked sense of humour and a smile that could light up a room…" Bodie trailed off, his smile faded and a deep sadness took over his face.

Doyle's heart ached for Bodie – ached for what the man had lost. He felt tears well in his eyes, but he was able to blink them back before any could fall.

"It still hurts," Bodie quietly confessed.

It was Doyle's turn to reach out and touch Bodie. He placed his hand on top of Bodie's, and squeezed tightly. "I know," he whispered. 

Looking into Bodie's face, witnessing his grief, Doyle felt himself falling for Bodie – slipping right over the edge, just a little in love with him. He tried to push the feelings away, knowing they would only cause him pain, but he couldn't. That sliver of love for Bodie was a part of him now – would probably always remain a part of him.

"Sometimes…" Bodie paused and looked down at his soup bowl.

"Go on," Doyle encouraged when Bodie didn't continue.

"Sometimes I wish I could have traded places with him."

Doyle had to swallow hard past the lump of emotion that had formed in his throat. "I doubt Nicolas would have wanted you to die in his place."

"No, perhaps not. But he was full of life. My death wouldn't have held him down for very long. Nicolas was the sort who would've found someone else to love."

"What about you, Bodie?" Doyle's thumb brushed back and forth over Bodie's fingers. "Don't you want someone to love again?" He found himself holding his breath while waiting for the answer.

"I didn't think I could ever love again." Bodie looked right into Doyle's eyes. "Lately, though, I find myself wanting that more than anything... But I messed up, Ray. Nicolas died because I couldn't protect him. It was my fault."

"You can't take responsibility for what those terrorists did."

"Nicolas was my partner. It was my job to watch his back – to keep him safe. People in my line of work need to stay single. That was my first mistake."

"So, you didn't deserve to have both a career and a relationship?"

"Apparently not. Anyone I love has a chance of being kidnapped, tortured or killed because of what I do. What happened to Nicolas… well, I won't let it happen again." Bodie released a harsh breath and slid his hand out from under Doyle's. "Listen, Doyle, I don't want to talk about it any more."

Doyle nodded in understanding. Actually, he was surprised Bodie had revealed as much as he had. Somewhere inside Bodie, though, he must trust Doyle enough to have shared something so close to his heart. 

"Alarms are set on the doors and windows. Anyone tries to break in, we'll know about it," Bodie said. He pushed away from the table and stood up. "Come on. Time to get some sleep."

***

Bodie stood to the side of the window in the lounge, scanning the darkness outside for any sign of movement. Three hours had passed since he and Doyle had bunked down for the night and no one from The Hive had shown up yet. He was positive the terrorists knew where he was holed up. Bodie was beginning to worry that they could be waiting for him to take Doyle out of the house so they could get a clean shot at the professor.

What concerned Bodie the most about The Hive was whether they still intended to capture Doyle alive, or if they wanted to kill Doyle to prevent him from breaking the code for CI5. There was one thing Bodie knew for certain, though, neither was going to happen as long as he drew breath.

With a last glance out the window, Bodie turned to look across the room to where Doyle was lying stretched out on his side on the sofa. Doyle's breathing was deep and even. Bodie was glad the man was getting some much needed rest.

The short kip Bodie had taken had helped him clear his head, but it did nothing to clear the tired burning sensation from his eyes. The only thing that would help was a good twelve hours of real sleep, and Bodie didn't see that happening any time soon. Not if The Hive stayed back out of his reach. 

Quietly, Bodie left the room, went into the kitchen. He picked up the phone and dialled Cowley on his private line.

_"Is he safe?"_ Cowley immediately asked upon answering.

"Yes, sir."

_"Where are you?"_

"Safe house 479. Looks nearly the same as 733. You remember that place, don't you, sir?" Bodie forced himself to sound casual, hoping Cowley would pick up on the clue and remember what happened at location 733 right before Bodie had left CI5. Chances were high that this phone call was being intercepted. In fact, Bodie was counting on it. Cowley knew every detail about the 733 op – knew exactly how Bodie, Jax and Murphy had stayed behind to lay a trap and ambush The Hive when the terrorists arrived. Every one of The Hive who showed up had been killed – or so he'd thought.

Bodie was planning on a repeat performance and its success hung on the fact that every word he said to Cowley would make it back to the men who were after Doyle. If luck was on Bodie's side then every one of those bastards would come looking for Doyle and would end up walking right into Bodie's trap.

_"Yes. I remember."_ Cowley replied. _"I'll make sure your location is reported to the proper authorities."_

Bodie understood what Cowley was saying. The 'proper authorities' meant whomever the old man suspected of being the mole. "Thank you, sir."

_"Is your position secure?"_

"Yes. We weren't followed. This location should be safe." _Like hell it is,_ Bodie thought.

_"Good. Are you in need of backup?"_

"No, sir. Don't want to take a chance that The Hive could follow anyone here." Everything Bodie was saying were lies, and he knew Cowley would know that.

_"Agreed. There should be plenty of provisions to hold you for a few days."_

"Weeks, more like. I've planned for an extended stay while the professor works."

_"Check in when he's made some progress."_

"Yes, sir."

Bodie ended the call and turned to face Doyle. He had heard the other man approach during the conversation.

"We staying here for a while, then?" Doyle asked.

"No."

"But you just said we were."

"I lied, didn't I?"

"Why?"

"Because the phone is bugged."

Bodie didn't miss the flare of fear that flashed across those green eyes. Doyle wrapped his arms around himself and briskly rubbed his biceps as if he was trying to get warm.

Bodie had to refrain from reaching out to do the job for Doyle, but touching him was not a good idea. Doyle was just too damn distracting and right now Bodie needed all his wits about him. 

"Have to make them think we feel safe here. If they do, then they'll move in," Bodie said.

Doyle's eyes narrowed and his forehead crinkled in confusion. "Thought we didn't want them to find us."

"Can't kill them if they stay away, can I?"

"I don't like this, Bodie. Not one bit." Doyle ran his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. "We should go someplace safe. Where they won't find us."

"And where would that be, professor?" Bodie demanded. "There is no safe place to hide. Not from The Hive. No matter where we go, they'll find us eventually."

"What if you get hurt?" Doyle's voice carried a hint of worry.

"I won't."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Doyle stared back at Bodie. "Know that for a fact, do you? And if you were to get killed, what would happen to me?"

"Told you already. You run and get in touch with Cowley."

Doyle shook his head. "I can't do this without you, Bodie."

Bodie looked away then slid his eyes back at Doyle again. The look of defeat on Doyle's face had Bodie clenching his fists against the urge to take him in his arms and comfort him. "You can do this," he assured Doyle. "If you want to stay alive, you don't have a choice."

"I want you to stay alive, as well. So, don't count on me running away and leaving you behind. If things go sour, we leave – together."

With long strides, Bodie surged across the room. He grabbed Doyle by the shoulders and pushed until Doyle was backed up against the wall. He wanted to have the man's full attention and didn't hesitate to use his larger body to intimidate Doyle into listening to what he had to say. The fact that he loved how Doyle felt pressed up against his body was only an added benefit – or an added torment, depending how he looked at it.

"You'll run if I tell you to. This isn't a game, Doyle, and I can't guarantee that I'll be able to come with you. My job is to keep you alive. No one, not even you, is going to get in the way of that. Understood?"

Not backing down, Doyle boldly met Bodie's gaze. "I don't like being bullied, Bodie." When Doyle swallowed and licked his lips, Bodie's gaze zeroed in on his mouth.

Suddenly Bodie realised his mistake. He should have never got so close to Doyle. Pressed together like they were, he could feel Doyle's warmth, smell his scent. It was easy to forget that Doyle was a job and not just a fellow Bodie was attracted to.

When Doyle licked his lips again, Bodie jerked his eyes away before he gave in to the urge to taste him. He moved back, putting a few feet of distance between them.

"I'm not interested in what you like or don't like." Bodie spoke more harshly than he intended. What he said was a lie, of course. He was quite interested in what Doyle liked – whether he liked to be taken gentle and slow, or hard and fast. Actually, if Bodie were given the chance, he'd give it to Doyle any way Doyle wanted. But that wasn't going to happen and he needed to get his brain out of his trousers before he got Doyle killed.

"So nice to know you care, sunshine," Doyle said, sounding sarcastic, hurt and irritated all at the same time.

"I do care." Before Bodie realised what he was doing, he closed the space between them and wrapped his hands around Doyle's arms. "I care too bloody much. If things were different-" The blare of the alarm cut Bodie off. He felt Doyle's body go tense and green eyes stared at him, wide and trusting. 

Adrenaline pumped through Bodie's body and immediately he pushed away all thoughts except protecting Doyle. "Take these." Bodie shoved the keys to the Rover into Doyle's hands. "When I tell you, I want you to run for the Rover and get the hell out of here." He pulled his gun from its holster and flicked off the safety. "I'll give you cover fire."

Doyle hesitated for only a second then nodded. Bodie grabbed Doyle's arm and quickly yet cautiously led him towards the front door.

"Everything you need is in the Rover," Bodie said. "Don't stop unless you have to, or Cowley tells you otherwise. Just keep moving and you'll be fine."

After manoeuvring Doyle to a safe position beside the door, Bodie cracked it open just enough to see outside. There was no one in sight, which meant whoever was here had either jimmied open the backdoor, or one of the bedroom windows down the hallway. They didn't have much time before their position would be known.

"Come with me. Please," Doyle begged in a whisper.

"Can't. I'll catch up to you soon. Now go!" Bodie hissed.

Doyle obeyed and rushed out the door. Bodie watched as he ran the short distance to the Rover, opened the door and jumped inside. With one last look at Bodie, Doyle started the motor and sped away.

Silently, Bodie closed the door, turned around and prepared for battle.

***

Keeping the headlights off, Doyle drove the Range Rover down the gravel drive. He glanced in the rear-view mirror. Behind him in the darkness he could make out even darker shapes moving amongst the trees towards the house – towards Bodie.

Doyle's already racing heart skipped a beat. Bodie's chances of getting out of that house alive were slim to none. No matter how well trained Bodie was, he'd never be able to fight them all off on his own.

Slamming down hard on the brakes, Doyle slid the Rover to a stop. He didn't care what Bodie had told him. There was no bloody way he could just drive off and leave Bodie behind to die. The sudden loud blast of gunfire moved Doyle into action. He hit the accelerator hard, wrenched the steering wheel to the left, spun the vehicle around and headed back towards the house. 

As the Rover drew nearer to the building, Doyle could see four armed men aiming their weapons at the front door. There were several bright flashes of muzzle fire from the terrorist's rifles and Bodie must have returned fire because one of the men crumpled to the ground.

The three remaining men closed in on the house, creeping slowly, crouching low to the ground. Doyle knew he had to do something soon or Bodie wasn't going to make it out alive. Without thought, he pushed down on the accelerator, veered off the drive and headed straight towards the closest enemy. The Rover hit the man straight-on with a sickening thud, tossing the body into the brambles. 

The two remaining men turned and began to fire at Doyle. One of the headlights shattered and the back passenger side window exploded, sending pieces of glass flying into the back seat. The speeding vehicle was enough of a diversion that Bodie managed to take out the two men. Seeing Bodie cautiously stepping out the front door, Doyle headed in his direction. Jamming on the brakes, the Rover skidded to a halt next to Bodie. Reaching across the seat, Doyle flung open the passenger door. "Get in!" he yelled.

Staying low, Bodie ran for the Rover, but just before he reached the door, a spray of gunfire was aimed their way. Bodie dropped to the ground and for a heart-stopping second Doyle thought Bodie'd been hit. Relief washed through him when he saw Bodie kneel and return fire. When the terrorist was eliminated, Bodie jumped into the vehicle and slammed the door shut.

"Drive!" Bodie yelled, glaring at Doyle. 

Doyle knew Bodie was angry that he'd come back, but Doyle didn't care. He knew he'd made the right choice. Let Bodie be upset. At least the man was alive.

Not wanting to think about everything that had just happened – about the man he'd just killed, Doyle trod down on every single thought that passed through his mind and concentrated solely on driving.

***

Enrico Krivas walked through the small kitchen, the stench of blood heavy in the air. All around the house were signs that his prey had been here. Partially finished bowls of stew on the table, in the lounge, a blanket lay in disarray on the sofa.

Walking past the dead man on the floor in the hallway, Krivas gave the body a kick in frustration. He now knew the identity of the man who was protecting Raymond Doyle. William Bodie, or simply Bodie as he preferred to be called. No wonder the man had seemed so familiar earlier. They had known each other from years ago when they had fought side by side in the jungle. They had even shared a woman once. A woman who had belonged to Krivas. A woman whom Bodie had stolen from him and Krivas had killed her in return.

If there was one man who deserved his undivided attention, it was William Bodie. And here he was, protecting Professor Doyle.

A cruel smile spread across Krivas' face and he laughed out loud. It had been such fun torturing and killing Bodie's lover two years ago. It was going to be an even greater pleasure hunting down and killing both Bodie and Doyle. 

"Two birds with one stone." He chuckled evilly.

***

Bodie spent about as much time watching Doyle as he did watching behind them for a tail. Doyle hadn't said a single word since they'd driven away from the house, and had followed Bodie's directions as though he were on automatic pilot. The silence worried Bodie. If Doyle had been yelling, or even crying, Bodie would have felt a whole lot better. But the way Doyle was acting now, it could possibly mean he was close to the breaking point.

Bodie was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Doyle had come back for him. Couldn't believe Doyle had run over the gunman to protect him. He understood the way Doyle felt about violence, yet Doyle had put aside that belief and risked his own life to save Bodie. He never expected Doyle to be so courageous, but that courage could very well have got Doyle killed.

Running a hand through his short hair, Bodie released a quiet sigh. He was doing his best to keep Doyle safe, yet how could he continue to do so if the man refused to listen. And what if his best wasn't good enough? What if The Hive killed Doyle? Or worse, kidnapped him. Christ, now that was a horrible thought. Bodie knew that if either of those things happened, he would never be able to survive the guilt.

For a brief second, he wondered if he should get in touch with Cowley and have someone else take over protection duty. Then again, if he did quit, he'd never be sure that The Hive had truly been eliminated. There would always be the possibility of some members eluding capture to begin torturing and murdering people once again. There was no way Bodie could walk away from that – nor could he walk away from Doyle.

Looking over at Doyle, Bodie took in the pale features and the hands holding the steering wheel in a white knuckled death grip. He knew he had to do something soon before Doyle shut down on him all-together.

"Pull over," Bodie said. Without question, Doyle did as asked, manoeuvring the vehicle over to the side of the motorway.

Doyle sat in his seat, staring straight ahead, not moving or talking. Tonight, Doyle had learnt first-hand what it was like to be forced to use violence. Bodie doubted that anything in that brilliant mind was equipped to handle it. He understood how traumatizing it was when you killed someone. Hell, he still remembered the first time he'd aimed a weapon at his enemy and pulled the trigger. Afterwards, he had gone out and got so drunk his hangover had lasted for days.

"It wasn't your fault." Bodie spoke in a quiet voice.

Doyle jumped, his whole body going rigid. "Yes. It was," he said tensely then let out a harsh laugh. "Want to hear something horrible? I'd do it again. I'd kill that bastard to save your life."

Moving a little closer to Doyle, Bodie reached out, took Doyle's chin in hand, and turned the curly head until Doyle was looking at him. "Thanks, mate. I appreciate what you did for me." He slid his fingers up to palm the side of Doyle's cheek. "Listen, Ray. What happened wasn't your fault. It was The Hive that decided to start killing people in order to break that code. You just got caught in the middle."

Closing his eyes, Doyle leaned against Bodie's hand. "Was that the last of them then?"

Bodie shook his head. "Doubt it. Can't say why, but I know there are more of them out there. Right now I feel..." He shrugged. "They're not following us at the moment. That doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful."

Doyle shifted away from Bodie, breaking their contact. "Now what? Another one of your safe houses?"

"No. I have a better idea. I know of a place where The Hive isn't likely to look. Should have taken you there in the first place."

***

"Oh, very nice this," Doyle said sarkily when Bodie pulled the Range Rover up to the battered, rustic looking cottage.

Bodie sent him an amused grin. "It's a hunting cottage. Not many people know about it."

"Belong to you, does it?"

"No. Belongs to Murphy."

"Who's Murphy?"

Doyle watched as Bodie's expression turned blank, shutting down against Doyle's question. "A mate from CI5."

He hated having that wall back up between them. When Bodie had talked to him about Nicolas, Doyle had been given a glimpse of the real man behind the hard mask. Buried under that mountain of pain and grief and guilt was a very loving, passionate man. Doyle desperately wanted to do something to bring that spirit back. Unfortunately, he wasn't entirely sure how to go about doing that. 

"Are you still friends?" Doyle asked.

"Yeah. But haven't seen him for two years." Bodie's tone was brusque, his words clipped.

"He won't mind us taking over his cottage?"

"Not at all. He'd never turn his back on a friend in need."

"Sounds like a good mate."

"He is," Bodie replied. "Murph and another mate, Jax, we all went through CI5 training together. We were close, before I left."

At the pain Doyle heard in Bodie's voice, his heart tightened in sympathy. Bodie had lost more than a lover two years ago; he'd lost his friends as well. How lonely Bodie's life must be. Doyle longed to reach out and touch him, but decided against it. Bodie was coiled too tightly, as if even the lightest of touches would cause him to explode. "Perhaps when this is over, you can see them again," Doyle said instead.

Bodie simply shrugged, making it look like he didn't care. Doyle didn't buy it, though. He was starting to understand Bodie, able to read him much better now, and he knew Bodie missed his friends.

They got out of the Rover and began to unload the items from the boot. "Loo's round the back if you need it," Bodie told him.

"Oh, terrific," Doyle groaned, picturing himself outside in the cold, dead of night having to find his way to the bog.

Bodie smirked then grabbed hold of two bags and carried them towards the front door of the cottage. Doyle followed behind, and couldn't help but stare as the muscles along Bodie's back and arms tightened and flexed. Every part of Doyle's body was acutely aware of Bodie. Not for the first time he wondered what it would be like to have those strong hands caressing his naked skin. Just the thought of it made his palms sweat and his heart rate increase.

He nearly ploughed right into the front of Bodie who stood standing at the door watching him closely. "Sorry, mate," Doyle murmured, hoping Bodie couldn't read the thoughts he was sure were visible on his face.

"Stay here. I want to check inside first."

"Okay." Doyle shivered slightly and tried to convince himself that it was caused from the cool air rather than Bodie's scrutinizing gaze.

A minute later, Bodie poked his head around the corner of the door frame. "Coast is clear." He grinned.

It took them a few trips to transfer all the items from the Rover to inside the cottage. Bodie lit a lamp and a few candles that were scattered about, casting the small room into a warm glow.

"We'll bunk down here," Bodie said, tossing two rolled up sleeping bags towards a thin pad of foam taking up one corner of the room.

Doyle didn't say anything, only stared at the spot where they'd be sleeping. It seemed cosy, almost intimate and he wasn't sure if he liked the set up or not. 

A hand on Doyle's shoulder followed by Bodie's voice made him jump. "Ray?" 

"Sorry. What?"

"Want some tea?"

"Love some."

"Here." Bodie reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Doyle. "Might as well take a look at this."

Seeing the code again made Doyle's heart race with excitement. "Wasn't sure I'd get another chance to see this. It's truly marvellous." Eyes still on the paper, Doyle wandered over to a wooden chair at the kitchen table and sat down. He could already feel the lure of the puzzle tugging at his brain and he welcomed the distraction.

***

After placing the plate on the table, Bodie looked at Doyle. The professor hadn't moved since he'd sat down to study the code. That was nearly two hours ago.

During that time, Bodie had managed to tidy the place up a bit so it was liveable. He also got a fire going in the pot-bellied stove and threw together a decent meal.

"Ray?" Bodie called softly, not wanting to startle him.

Doyle blinked and looked up at him like he forgot Bodie was there. Massaging the back of his neck with one hand, Doyle asked, "What time is it?"

"Time to eat." Bodie grinned.

For a second, Doyle seemed torn between the paper in his hand and the food Bodie had prepared. His stomach must have won the debate because Doyle put the paper aside, rose to his feet and stretched with a sinuous, almost sensual arch of his back.

It was an innocent movement by Doyle, but one that sent a tingle of lust through Bodie's body. He had to avert his gaze to keep himself from staring.

They sat down to eat. Well, Doyle ate; Bodie spent most of his time watching him. Doyle's curly hair fascinated Bodie. It looked soft and silky and he wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it. To let his hands get tangled until he had a good firm hold so he could tilt Doyle's head back and take his mouth – kiss him just like Bodie wanted, long and hard and deep.

Bodie felt his hands begin to tremble. He had to put his knife and fork down to stop from dropping them. He sucked in a controlled breath to help calm himself and when he looked up, Doyle was watching him with concern.

"You okay, mate?" Doyle asked. The table was small enough that Doyle was able to reach out and place a hand against the side of Bodie's face.

Bodie flinched ever so slightly. The warmth of Doyle's fingers sent his lust roaring straight to his groin and he felt his cock harden. It had been such a long time since he'd last had sex. He'd not so much as touched himself since Nicolas had died. Hadn't wanted to feel the joy and pleasure of self-fulfilment. 

Long, slender fingers caressed the dark stubble of Bodie's cheek and he reached up to cover Doyle's hand with his own. Before Doyle had come along, Bodie had gone so long without contact from another person. Now he found himself fearing that Doyle would pull away – feared it would be years again before another found the courage to touch him. 

They were close enough that Bodie could smell Doyle's shampoo, his sweat and unique scent. He wanted to reach across the table and pull Doyle to him. Take that wonderful mouth in a kiss. One that would lead them to the sleeping bags on the other side of the room where he would make love to Doyle with mouth and tongue and fingers until he had him pleading for more. Bodie wanted Doyle to be his. Completely. The need clawed at him so badly he ached with it.

But he knew he couldn't do any of those things with Doyle. They could have no life together. No future. Doyle was being hunted by The Hive. If any of the members knew of Bodie's feelings towards the other man… Bodie shivered at the thought of what might happen to Doyle if he wasn't more careful. Doyle could end up just like Nicolas. 

The image of his dead lover swam before his eyes. Bodie could still vividly see Nicolas tied to that chair, body mangled, blood pooling around him.

In a jerky motion, Bodie pulled away from Doyle. "I'm fine," he snapped and shot up from his chair, nearly toppling it over. In an attempt to put some distance between them, he went to tend the fire.

***

Doyle stayed rooted to his seat and stared at Bodie's back while he added a few pieces of wood to the stove. Bodie had been about to kiss him. Doyle was sure of it. His heart was still pounding with excitement at the way Bodie had looked at him. There was no doubt in his mind that Bodie wanted him and the feeling was definitely mutual. Just the thought of kissing him had Doyle's cock lengthening in his tight jeans.

Doyle had never been so quickly turned on by another man before. The sensation was highly exhilarating. Of course, he'd had sex with other men, but there had never been this rush of desire. Not even in his last relationship with Stewart Miller, a fellow professor, had it felt like this – it wasn't even close.

Yes, Doyle had cared for Stewart. He never would have slept with the man if he hadn't, but Doyle had not been in love with him. They'd enjoyed one another's company, and when their careers had taken them in different directions, they had gone their separate ways. It hadn't been an ugly or spiteful break-up. It just happened, tepid and uneventful. Rather like their entire relationship.

Nothing about the way Bodie had looked at Doyle was lukewarm. There had been a searing, hungry heat in those blue eyes. Doyle had been mesmerised, enthralled by what he'd seen. 

Except, before he was able to do anything about it, Bodie had frozen up on him, leaving Doyle feeling cold and bereft. He had no idea what he'd done to cause that reaction in Bodie. It was quite obvious, though, that something had happened. 

The image of Nicolas entered Doyle's mind and it all became abruptly clear. How could he have forgotten that Bodie was still grieving over the death of his lover? Showing Doyle those God awful pictures and talking about the horrible things that had happened to Nicolas could not have been easy. They were memories, Doyle was sure, that Bodie would have preferred to leave buried, if not entirely erased.

Doyle glanced over at Bodie who was crouched on the floor, staring at the fire. He ached to go to the man. To offer comfort, friendship, but Doyle didn't think Bodie would want either of those things from him. He wasn't Bodie's lover, wasn't even a friend. He was nothing more than a job. When the job was over, Bodie would be out of his life forever. That fact was not something Doyle wanted to think about at the moment.

"Should try to get some rest, mate," Doyle said. "You look done in."

Bodie released a deep sigh and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "Think I will. Should be safe enough to sleep for a while." Even though Bodie's tone was still sharp, it was also filled with a heavy weariness.

After getting to his feet, Bodie went over to one of the duffle bags, pulled out a handgun, checked the safety and added an ammo clip. "Keep this with you at all times," Bodie said, placing the gun on the table beside Doyle's plate.

Doyle gave him an amenable nod. As Bodie walked away, Doyle tried to push both the gun and Bodie from his mind. He also had a job to do, and that's exactly what he was going to focus on.

***

Bodie woke from his kip and rubbed at tired eyes. Even though he had slept for four hours, he didn't feel refreshed. Instead, he felt achy and on edge. Of course, the erotic dreams he'd had of Doyle had done little good towards getting a restful sleep.

Closing his eyes, Bodie focused on getting the images of a naked Doyle out of his mind. He had to stay in control of his actions and his bodily responses. No matter how much he wanted to have Doyle under him to finish what his dreams had started, he wouldn't. He couldn't use Doyle that way – even though he'd thought he'd seen the heat of desire in those green eyes. Doyle was in a vulnerable position right now and taking advantage of that would be unforgivable. 

Bodie rolled onto his side. Propping his head up on his hand, he looked around the cottage. Doyle was still exactly where Bodie had left him. Only now he had a pencil in hand and was scribbling furiously on a notepad. There were dark shadows of fatigue under his eyes. His brow scrunched in concentration.

The light from the lantern danced over Doyle's golden skin and Bodie couldn't help notice how beautiful the man looked in the candlelight. He wondered what Doyle would look like stretched out naked beneath him with firelight flickering over his sweaty body. Heat instantly flared in his groin causing Bodie to curse inwardly. If he was going to stay in control, he had to stop with the erotic thoughts.

Slipping out of his sleeping bag, he walked over to the pot-bellied stove and added a few more logs. He then went to the little area set up as a kitchen to start some water to heat for coffee, which he was going to need since he wouldn't be sleeping any more tonight.

Doyle, finally noticing him, looked up and smiled. "Hello."

That soft smile sent a yearning through Bodie. It had been so long since anyone greeted him in the early morning with a gentle smile and a friendly word. It was such a simple gesture, yet it made him think of mornings after long nights of lovemaking. Of breakfast in bed and the pleasure of having someone to wake up to every morning – someone he loved. And he wondered if Doyle longed for those simple things as well.

"Do you know what time it is?" Bodie asked, his voice rough with sleep and longing.

"Not really. Did I wake you?"

Bodie shook his head. Besides the sound of pencil on paper, Doyle had been very quiet. However, all Doyle would have needed to do was whisper Bodie's name and he would have been instantly awake, probably with a gun in his hand.

Seeing Doyle yawn, Bodie said, "Think it's about time for you to rest up."

"Will in a minute," Doyle replied, writing something down on the notepad.

Bodie crossed his arms over his chest. "Can't have you collapsing from exhaustion, can I. Need you to finish the job." Doyle scowled at him, except the effect was ruined by the circles under Doyle's eyes and the slumped shoulders. "Look, mate. Whether you want to admit it or not, you're knackered."

"All right. Persistent sod," Doyle murmured as he got to his feet.

"Heard that." Bodie smirked. "Can wash yourself at the sink if you'd like."

Doyle gave him a nod and went over to the little kitchen. Bodie moved to the opposite side of the room, turning his back to give Doyle a bit of privacy.

An hour after Doyle had gone to bed, Bodie could hear him tossing and turning restlessly in the sleeping bag. "Can't sleep, mate?" he asked from his seat by the fire.

Doyle sighed and sat up. "I am tired, but my mind won't shut off."

Bodie got to his feet and walked over to their makeshift sleeping area. Kneeling down on his own sleeping bag, he looked at Doyle. "What are you thinking about?"

There was a long pause before Doyle answered, "What's going to happen to me once this is over." Behind the sadness in the green eyes lay a hint of anger.

"It'll turn out all right." Bodie placed a hand on Doyle's shoulder, gave a gentle squeeze.

"Oh, really?" Doyle glared. "What's to stop this from happening again the next time some terrorist group wants a cyphertext decoded?" he said resignedly, rubbing at tired eyes with his fists. "It's never going to stop, is it?" 

Bodie understood that Doyle would only want to hear the truth, although he did try to soften the blow with an understanding tone. "The safest option you have is to work for a government agency. Probably in a secure facility where you'll be protected."

Doyle shook his head, making the tangled curls brush across Bodie's fingers. He had to pull away before he grabbed hold of those curls and claimed Doyle's mouth. "After this I don't want anything to do with government agencies or the military. I don't trust the bloody lot of 'em," Doyle snarled.

It stung that Doyle was repulsed by the very job Bodie had spent a good portion of his life doing. Yes, there were times he didn't like the things he was made to do, but it was all done for the safety and protection of people and country. So, when he spoke, his voice came out a little more curt than he intended. "You might not have a choice. And if you haven't noticed, that group you don't trust is going to a hell of a lot of trouble to keep you alive."

Doyle let out a harsh laugh. "That's only because I have something they want. Cowley and those other agents threatened to kill me if I didn't cooperate. Isn't exactly a friendly organisation, is it?"

"We're not intended to be friendly," Bodie growled. "We're designed to get the job done, no matter how unpleasant it might be."

"Yeah, well, if I worked for your lot, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night."

"And I can't sleep at night knowing there was something more I could be doing to help protect the lives of innocent people."

Doyle grinned, but it was not a very pretty one. "As long as you get to choose whose lives get protected and whose don't."

Bodie'd had enough. He got to his feet and glared down at Doyle. "Didn't choose for Nicolas to die, did I? The Hive did that. So, don't go acting all self-righteous when you don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about!"

Doyle's face fell and guilt washed over his features. "Sorry," said Doyle quietly. "Can't even imagine what that must have been like for you."

Closing his eyes briefly, Bodie willed himself to get hold of his emotions. "I know you're not happy about this situation, Doyle, but I need your cooperation to get this code broken."

Doyle nodded. "Will do my best. Just don't expect this job to lead to anything more. When I'm done, I'm walking away. I won't ever do anything like it again."

"Don't make any decisions about that now. Once you're safe and people aren't trying to kill you, you'll have time to figure out what you want to do."

"But that's my point, Bodie. As long as I'm able to be an asset to any covert group, there will always be someone trying to get at me, or kill me. I'll never be free again."

Bodie couldn't answer because he knew Doyle was right. He just wished the man hadn't figured it out so soon.

***

The following morning, Doyle woke with a start. He glanced around in confusion at the unfamiliar surroundings before he remembered where he was. As he looked around the one room cottage, he noticed Bodie was nowhere to be seen. Slipping out from between the sleeping bag, he rummaged through the small pile of clothing Bodie said was his to use. Picking out a dark blue track suit, he quickly dressed then went in search of Bodie.

Being early morning, the air outside the cottage was nippy and a haze of frost blanketed the ground. He looked up at the pale blue sky, inhaled deeply, breathing in the clean, fresh air. If felt good to be out after being stuck inside the small, cramped space. 

Glancing around, there was still no sign of Bodie, but Doyle could see the outline of footprints etched in the frost covered grass. He decided to follow the trail, which led towards the woods, hoping they would lead him to Bodie. About forty yards along, the frost disappeared as did the footprints. Doyle looked around, hoping to see some sign as to which way Bodie had gone, but found none.

Deciding it wasn't such a good idea to go wandering around in the trees in search of Bodie in case he got lost, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out Bodie's name.

By the third call, Doyle was beginning to feel a little uneasy, wondering if something may have happened to Bodie. Before he could call again, Bodie appeared silently out of the trees, hurrying towards Doyle. Without a word, Bodie pushed him back against a tree trunk, a hand covered his mouth and Bodie's body pressed hard against him.

"We're not alone," Bodie whispered into Doyle's ear.

Fear caused Doyle's body to go tense. He tugged at Bodie's hand to remove it. "Think they heard me?" Doyle asked quietly.

"I don't know."

"The Hive?"

Bodie shook his head while at the same time he stared at Doyle's mouth. Bodie's head inched closer. Just when Doyle was sure he was going to be kissed, Bodie moved away and said in a brusque, harsh voice, "Hunters. Three of them. But I'm not taking any chances. Been watching them all morning. This way." Bodie indicated for Doyle to follow. "Stay low. They're just in the next valley."

Where the trees met a clearing, Bodie dropped to his stomach and Doyle mimicked his actions. From this position, the hillside dipped, giving a clear view of the valley below. "What are they doing?"

Bodie pulled out a pair of binoculars and peered down into the valley. "Drinking lager, mostly. Doesn't look like they heard you."

"Good." Doyle breathed a small sigh of relief. "Do you think it's The Hive? If it is, why would they sit around drinking?"

"I don't think they would. Even if they are hunters, can't have them stumbling across the cottage, or us. If they mention to anyone in town that we're staying here, it would no longer be safe. We'd have to leave."

"What do we do?"

"I'll keep watching them. Make sure they don't get any closer."

"And if they do?" Doyle wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Giving Doyle a sinister little smile, Bodie said, "I shall convince them otherwise." Bodie manoeuvred them back into the woods, out of sight of the hunters. "Okay, mate, off you go, back to the cottage. I'll handle things out here."

Doyle really didn't want to go back alone. He was feeling a bit jumpy with those men close-by. Under normal circumstances, he could take care of himself just fine, however these were far from normal circumstances. He needed to be close to someone he trusted – and that someone was Bodie.

"Would rather stay," Doyle said. "Could be your backup."

Bodie's lips twitched into a smile. "Exactly how much do you know about covert surveillance?"

"Know enough to not make any noise… or yell." Doyle grinned impishly.

Bodie chuckled quietly. "Okay. Just stay low and quiet."

"Sure thing, mate." It felt good to be momentarily free of the bloody code, and to be able to stay close by Bodie's side.

***

It took another hour before the hunters packed up and left the way they had come. It had been a great relief to Bodie knowing that they hadn't decided to camp out. Once he was sure the men were gone for good, he and Doyle had made their way back to the cottage. 

The rest of morning and afternoon were spent with Doyle working nearly non-stop on the code and Bodie doing various chores around the cottage, with an occasional outdoor reconnoitre.

During the late afternoon, Doyle had moved from the table to the sleeping bag, where he stretched out with pad and pencil and continued to work. 

Bodie came into the cottage with an armload of wood, dropping it by the stove. He looked over at Doyle, expecting him to be working vigorously on the code. Instead, he found Doyle curled up on his side, fast asleep on top of the sleeping bag. 

Grabbing the blanket from the back of the old settee, Bodie spread the blanket out to cover the sleeping man. He looked down and smiled. As it always seemed to happen lately whenever he watched Doyle in sleep, Bodie felt something in his chest shift – become more comfortable, yet tighter at the same time.

In sleep, Doyle looked vulnerable and trusting. It tugged at every one of Bodie's protective instincts. He was the only thing standing between Doyle and death, and Doyle unequivocally trusted Bodie to keep him safe. It had been a long time since anyone had put that kind of trust in him.

Kneeling down, Bodie brushed the back of his knuckles across Doyle's beard stubbled cheek. Murmuring something unintelligible, Doyle shifted closer to Bodie. God, what he wouldn't give to be here with Doyle for the sheer enjoyment of it. To make love on their makeshift bed, in their secluded little cottage in the woods. With a long sigh, Bodie removed his hand. He had to stop thinking about Doyle like that and get his mind back on the job. Doyle's life depended on it. 

Tucking the blanket under Doyle's chin, Bodie got to his feet and went to make some tea.

***

From his bolt-hole in the woods, Krivas used his binoculars to watch Bodie move around the cottage. He had to give Bodie credit; the man had done an excellent job keeping Professor Doyle out of reach. It had taken four stolen cars to follow them here undetected. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to go through so much trouble to stay hidden.

If Krivas was an impatient man, he could have already broken into the cottage while his prey slept, killed Bodie and taken Doyle. But Krivas was much smarter than that. He knew Doyle would work better while he was with someone he trusted. 

And Krivas needed that code broken. He was in this for the weapons that the cyphertext would locate, not to mention the money they would bring on the black market. The man he worked for, Conor McKevitt, had made it clear that finding those weapons would secure a position of power in their newly restructured organisation. So, if it meant waiting until Doyle finished the work before Krivas abducted him, then that's what he would do. 

Besides, he was enjoying finding ways to evade Bodie's traps that were set up in various areas in the woods surrounding the cottage. It had been a long time since Krivas had tested his skills against a worthy opponent, and Bodie was as worthy as they came.

_It's too bad for Bodie that I'm much better,_ Krivas thought with a malicious smile.

***

Doyle had been the one to clean up the mess from dinner. It was the first time he'd lent a hand since they'd arrived at the cottage. So far, it had been Bodie who had taken on all the chores, along with the cooking and cleaning, and Doyle was starting to feel guilty for not helping out more.

He glanced at the door as Bodie came inside with yet another armload of wood. This would make it the fifth time in a row. One wall was completely covered, floor to ceiling, in firewood. If Doyle's calculations were correct, there was enough there to last for a good month at least.

Putting aside the tea towel, Doyle asked with a smirk, "Expecting a sudden snowstorm, are you?" He had to admit being snowbound with Bodie wasn't at all unappealing. Except for missing a hot soak in the bath and a real toilet, being here with Bodie was no hardship. Doyle simply enjoyed Bodie's company. When he worked, Bodie left him alone, only bothering Doyle when he forgot to eat. He couldn't remember the last time there had been someone around who took such good care of him. It was comforting to know Bodie was there.

After stacking his armload of wood, Bodie dusted his hands off on his jeans, but didn't quite meet Doyle's eyes when he looked his way. "Always be prepared is me motto. Besides, what we don't use, Murphy will."

Bodie turned away and added more wood to the stove. Doyle couldn't stop himself from watching. He loved the way Bodie moved – sleek and powerful – and loved to see those muscles slide under the shirt Bodie wore. Repeatedly, Doyle had to keep from reaching out to lay a hand on those strong arms and chest. 

Bodie's voice coming only inches from him jerked Doyle from his thoughts. "Eh?" he asked, not hearing what Bodie had said.

"You're staring, mate."

"Sorry. Was just thinking."

"About?"

Doyle cut off the lie before it fully formed and decided to be bold. He went with the truth. "You." Bodie's gaze widened, becoming heated as it swept over Doyle's body. When their eyes met, an electric current seemed to sizzle between them. "I love to watch you move. Love to see your muscles flex. All that strength makes me want to touch you to see what it feels like."

Swept away by that mental image, Doyle wasn't aware he'd spoken those last words out loud. It wasn't until he saw the expression in Bodie's eyes change and become more guarded that he realised his error.

Doyle began to look away only to have his chin grasped with a strong hand, forcing him to meet Bodie's eyes. The blue was nearly black, Bodie's cheeks mottled with colour, nostrils flared as if in anger. But it wasn't anger, Doyle realised. It was something else – lust, desire. 

A hand wrapped around Doyle's hip while another one came to rest at the small of his back, holding him still. Bodie lowered his head and kissed Doyle – hard and demanding. Doyle's lips were teased by a hot tongue, coaxing and luring him to accept Bodie into his mouth. Willingly, Doyle parted his lips, releasing a groan when Bodie slipped inside. 

Sliding his hands up Bodie's body, he used fingers of one hand to clutch a muscular shoulder and the other went round to grasp Bodie at the nape of his neck. With a little tug, Doyle brought them closer together, their erections pushing against each other. Doyle's body sang with excitement, a fiery passion that rushed through his system – the sensation as wonderful as it was frightening. 

Bodie was the one who broke the kiss. They held onto one another, both panting hard as though they'd just run a marathon. Bodie was looking at him, eyes fixed on Doyle's parted lips and Doyle's own eyes slid to Bodie's mouth, seeing how swollen the lips were from their not-so-gentle kiss. Lifting his hand, Doyle used his fingertips to gently caress the reddened lips and wondered if his looked the same way. 

Bodie jerked at Doyle's touch then let out a quiet curse. "We can't do this. It's wrong. A mistake."

A rush of cold swept through Doyle, carrying away any remains of contentment he may have felt. 

A mistake? 

How could something that felt so amazing – so right – be a mistake?

Doyle began to shake in anger and frustration. He pushed away from Bodie, putting a good distance between them. He couldn't stay in this small space for one more second. He had to get away from Bodie and cool off before he thumped the man. Turning away, Doyle strode to the front door and yanked it open. "Felt bloody right to me," he said before slamming the door shut behind him and hurrying down the stairs. 

***

Since it was pitch dark outside, Doyle didn't wander off very far. From where he stood amongst the trees, he could still see the warm glow of candlelight shining through the windows of the cottage. Standing out in the cold, shivering and alone, made it a little easier to accept Bodie's rejection. It also made him realise what was truly important in his life.

His work. Nothing more.

For those brief few minutes, that kiss had made Doyle forget the reason why he was here. And that was wrong. He should never have got distracted. The lives of innocent people were depending on him and he needed to focus on what was important – discovering the hidden meaning in the cyphertext.

Now that he'd had time to think, he understood why Bodie said what he did. 

That kiss – it was a mistake.

As he stood there shivering, Doyle didn't hear Bodie's approach, in so much as he sensed the man, just before his large figure emerged from between the trees. 

"Forgot your jacket," Bodie said.

With jacket in hand, Bodie reached around Doyle and slid the material over Doyle's shoulders. The way Bodie's arms were loosely wrapped around him felt like an embrace. Doyle couldn't stop his body from reacting to Bodie's nearness. His heart began to race and he inhaled deeply to pull in Bodie's unique, intoxicating scent.

Desire tightened Doyle's belly, making him feel weak and breathless. He had never felt this way about Stewart, as a matter of fact, he'd never felt this way about anyone. Doyle's instant reaction to Bodie was both unique and utterly mystifying.

The man was like a drug. 

A very addictive drug.

One he needed to wean himself off of – and fast. 

Bodie's movements were jerky but gentle as he held the jacket while Doyle slipped his arms into the sleeves. The darkness hid any emotions that may have shown in the blue eyes. When Bodie moved away, the loss of body heat was instantaneous. His body began to shiver making Doyle wrap his arms around his upper body.

"We should get back to the cottage," Bodie said, not looking at Doyle.

Doyle knew that wasn't a good idea. Before he made any attempt to go back inside, he needed to be positive he could be in the same space with Bodie and not want to finish what they had started. "I'll come back in a little while. Just need a bit more air."

Bodie nodded, but didn't move. "Didn't mean to hurt you, Ray," he said quietly. "I swear it."

Doyle's hands tightened on the leather of the jacket, not sure that anything would ease the empty ache that chilled him from deep within his soul.

"Look, Bodie. We don't have to talk about this. Just forget that kiss ever happened."

"Just wanted you to know I'm sorry for the way I acted. Should never have let my feelings get in the way of the job."

The job. Yes, that's what was truly important – not his feelings, or Bodie's. They both had a job to do. Lives depended on their success.

"It's okay," Doyle said. The words felt hollow, because it sure didn't sodding feel okay.

"No, it's not, but that's the way it has to be. I hope you understand?"

Yeah, Doyle understood perfectly. Bodie's lover had been killed by the same men that were trying to kill him. Neither he nor Bodie had any business getting involved with each other.

"I just need some time to clear my head so I can focus on my work. Can't do that with you standing so close."

There was a long pause before Bodie said, "Don't be long." He turned away and slipped back into the shadows.

Doyle took a long, deep breath, released it and looked up at the clear night sky, watching the stars. He could do this. He had to do this. Had to be strong enough to resist Bodie. He was no fool and was smart enough to know he didn't have any other choice.

***

Krivas slid deeper into his bolt-hole and grinned. It appeared that Bodie had feelings for the pretty professor. Earlier, he had witnessed that kiss between the two men, and he had to admit, it was very unexpected. In the past, when Bodie was on a job, that's all he focused on. The man never let anything distract him until the work was done.

But watching Doyle, Krivas could understand Bodie's obvious lust. Doyle was a man of beauty with his exotic features and lean, muscular body. Krivas wouldn't mind having a taste of that himself. He didn't have a gender preference for his bed partners and would have sex with any willing, and occasionally not so willing, body.

From where he hid, Krivas could see Bodie keeping an eye on Doyle from a few yards away. In the dark, Krivas doubted Doyle knew that Bodie was guarding him. Actually, if Bodie had left Doyle alone, Krivas would have found it very difficult to resist the urge to move in too soon and snatch Doyle.

McKevitt was pressuring Krivas to move faster, anxious to get his hands on those weapons. When Krivas finally established his much deserved spot as McKevitt's right hand man, he was going to have to teach his boss that money wasn't everything – power was much more important. And much more enjoyable. Krivas knew that although money could buy power, fear could buy a hell of a lot more.

McKevitt was just going to have to wait. Krivas was enjoying himself way too much right now to hurry. That kiss between Bodie and Doyle changed everything. It was obvious Bodie cared for Doyle, which made Doyle that much more interesting and useful to Krivas.

***

Doyle threw down his pencil, scrubbed fingers through his hair and growled in frustration. Over the past twenty-four hours he'd not made any progress with the cyphertext. The bloody code was winning and Doyle knew that if it did, people would die. 

He was always one who worked well under pressure, however, this level of pressure was almost more than he could handle. He was beginning to think he'd never be able to break the code. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he opened them again and noticed the bowl of soup near his elbow. Bodie had placed it in front of him over an hour ago. At some point it had been removed, reheated and set down in from of him one more time. But now it sat, cooling once again. Doyle could smell the vegetable broth. As enticing as the scent was, his stomach rebelled at the thought of eating. 

It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, those horrible pictures Bodie had shown him filled his mind. Lately, it had got so bad that Doyle wasn't able to sleep, or even close his eyes for very long. With a deep sigh, he dropped his head into his hands. If this went on for much longer, he swore he would go insane.

He tensed slightly when hands landed on his shoulders, but then immediately relaxed as those wonderful fingers began to gently knead his tight muscles.

"How 'bout taking a break? Go have a little kip," Bodie said.

"Mmmm." Doyle hummed in pleasure, tilting his head to one side to allow Bodie's fingers better access to the left side of his neck. "Can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see the code scrolling through my head." _And the faces of those dead people,_ Doyle said to himself. He wasn't about to tell that to Bodie, though, because he knew it would only make Bodie feel guilty for having shown the pictures to him. And Bodie had enough self-imposed guilt that Doyle didn't want to add to the lot. He tried not to groan in disappointment when Bodie's hands released him, his skin already cooling where Bodie's warm fingers had touched him.

Bodie shifted around to the opposite side of the table and sat down. Blue eyes slid over Doyle, searching his face. "Something else is wrong."

For a second, Doyle thought about not telling Bodie, except he knew in the end Bodie would figure it out anyway. Besides, talking about it might actually help. "I've hit a wall."

Bodie frowned. "A wall?"

"Yes. No matter how long I study the code, no matter how long I work at it, the solution keeps evading me."

"It might help if you tried to get some sleep."

Doyle shook his head and rubbed at his tired eyes. "Can't. There's too much at stake. If I fail, people will die."

Bodie reached across the table and briefly squeezed Doyle's hand. "That's an awful lot of pressure to be putting on yourself, mate. You need to relax. Give it time."

Releasing a frustrated sigh, Doyle replied, "It's hard to relax when I'm banging me head against the same bloody wall." He looked at Bodie, trying not to let the desperation he felt show on his face. "What if I can't do it?"

"You can do it," Bodie said, sounding utterly confident. "What do you normally do when you hit a rough patch?"

"I let it be for a while and move on to another project. Give my brain time to work things out on its own. But…"

"But?" Bodie prompted. 

"We don't have time for that. Do we, mate?"

"We have all the time you need."

Doyle closed his eyes and shook his head, wishing that were true. "I need to distract myself for a while. Let me brain work in peace."

"You don't need a distraction. You need sleep."

"I can't sleep, Bodie. I've tried," Doyle said in frustration.

"Know that, don't I. Hear you shifting around in your sleeping bag at night."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to keep you awake. Shall try to be quieter."

"I don't care about that. I'm worried about you. You need to take a break."

"Told you already. I can't. I need to-"

"Take a break," Bodie insisted. He stood up, clamped a hand around Doyle's wrist and pulled him to his feet. "Time for a walk, I think. Come along, Sunshine." A faint smile appeared on Bodie's face.

Outside the air was brisk yet refreshing. Doyle breathed deeply, taking in the clean, frosted scent. It was a beautiful area. Quiet and peaceful. If it weren't for this horrid situation, Doyle could quite easily enjoy himself here. Suddenly, he wished for his sketch pad, paints, canvas and easel. It would be wonderful to put on canvas the beautiful forest and countryside, and to lose himself in his artwork. But he didn't have that freedom of enjoyment. He had a deadline looming over him as did other nameless people. People who were depending on him for their very lives.

"Oh, no, you don't," warned Bodie. "I know that look. Whatever it is you're thinking about, stop it right now."

"Eh?"

"That look. The one that tells me you're not going to eat my cooking, no matter how many times I reheat it. The one that makes your eyes fill with fear and your face go pale."

Doyle hadn't realised how transparent he'd been. Or perhaps Bodie was simply that observant. "I try not to think about it, really I do."

"You'll solve the puzzle, Ray."

"You know what's at stake, Bodie."

"Of course I do. But you can't let yourself think about that. One step at a time. That's what you need to focus on."

"Is that how you do it?"

"Would be overwhelming if I stopped to think about everything. Helping you crack the code, getting you out of here, finding the mole and getting the information back to Cowley, finding a safe place for you while we use that information, wiping out The Hive-"

"Okay, okay." Doyle laid a hand on Bodie's chest. "I see your point."

Wrapping his fingers around Doyle's, Bodie removed it from his chest, except rather than letting go, Bodie kept hold, warming it. "You can only do so much at a time. You need to give yourself a break every now and again."

Looking into the dark blue eyes, Doyle wished, not for the first time, that he'd met Bodie under different circumstances. Everything about Bodie made the man very attractive. Bodie had proven he was a caring man. One who put others before himself – even to the point of risking his own life. And he was beautiful to look at. A masculine face with soft angles and a mouth that was both soft and hot. Doyle could still remember how those lips had felt – firm and demanding against his own. Just the memory of their kiss was enough to warm Doyle and set his heart racing.

As though he'd been reading Doyle's thoughts, Bodie said, "Let's not go there, shall we." A faint smile curved Bodie's lips. "Come on, professor. I want to show you something."

With their hands still clasped together, Bodie led him through a crop of trees. As they moved along, Bodie would point out different sections of ground where he'd set traps for any unwanted visitors. Twenty minutes later, they reached the top of a ridge. Wind whipped around them, tossing Doyle's hair into his eyes. 

"There," Bodie said, motioning with a hand towards the horizon.

Brushing his curls away from his face, Doyle looked. The breath caught in his chest. The view was spectacular. From here, he could see the rolling mountain-side. In the valley below, the trees proudly displayed their autumn colours. Brilliant swatches of reds, yellows and oranges, all blurred together to form a Monet-like painting. 

"It's beautiful," Doyle said with awe in his voice.

"Knew you'd like it," Bodie replied, sounding pleased.

"Wish I had my canvas and paints. I would love to paint this view. Maybe…" Doyle trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"Maybe what, mate?"

_Maybe, when all this is over, we could come back here together,_ Doyle had wanted to say, but he knew it would never be over. His life as he once knew it had ended. He doubted very much that he'd ever return to this place again. Instead of answering Bodie, Doyle gazed out to appreciate the view. Everything looked different from where they stood – softer and more continuous. Rather than individual trees and rocks, bushes and blades of grass, the entire landscape merged into one single work of art. From this distance, each separate object now appeared continuous – a continuous whole.

Just like the cyphertext.

Suddenly, time seemed to freeze for Doyle as the meaning of his thoughts rang loud and clear in his mind.

That was it!

He had figured out the key to the puzzle.

Thanks to Bodie and his mountain view, Doyle had found the answer. He would finally be able to crack the code.

***

Bodie watched Doyle's face go pale and for a second, he thought Doyle was going to faint. Reaching out, he grabbed onto Doyle's arms in an attempt to hold him steady.

"Ray?"

Doyle's eyes went wide and unfocused. A fine sheen of sweat broke out over his forehead.

"Ray?" Bodie gave him a little shake. "What is it?" 

The motion seemed to snap Doyle out of whatever muddle-headed state he had been in, and much to Bodie's great relief, Doyle began to smile.

"I've got it!" Doyle said, grinning.

"Eh? Got what?" Bodie asked, now not entirely sure Doyle was completely coherent.

"I figured it out, Bodie. The cyphertext. Finally figured out what I'd been missing in the code. We need to get back to the cottage. Well, come on. Let's go." Doyle quickly took hold of his hand and this time it was Bodie who was being led through the trees.

***

Krivas walked through the empty cottage Bodie and Doyle shared. He'd seen them leave and had waited until they were a good distance away before slipping inside. 

Standing at the small kitchen table, he flipped through Doyle's notes, happy to see that it appeared some progress was being made regarding the code. He had no idea how far Doyle was from breaking the code, but a quick check of their supplies told him there was only a few days worth of food left, which meant that someone would have to go into town for more.

Krivas was pretty certain Bodie believed Doyle was safe up here with all those traps laid out as protection. And when it was time to go into town, Bodie might possibly leave Doyle behind so he could continue his work.

If that was the way it played out, then Krivas would make his move. With Bodie gone, it would be easy to enter the cottage and snatch Doyle, along with his work.

Krivas grinned as he ran a finger over some text Doyle had written on a sheet of paper. If Doyle was a good lad and behaved himself, Krivas might keep him alive long enough to play with him for a while – just like he'd done with Nicolas. With a last look around the small room, he left the cottage, a fervent smile firmly planted on his face.

***

Doyle stretched where he sat, arching his back to relieve some of the tension in his muscles. He had spent the last three hours sitting at the table, feverishly working on the code. Although he wasn't done yet, the solution was no longer out of his reach. It was such a relief to know he could do this – that he would succeed.

The smell of something savoury – meat, onions, spices – reached his nose, making his stomach rumble, his mouth water. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so famished.

A quick glance around the cottage told Doyle that Bodie was not inside. Getting to his feet, he went to the sink, cranked the pump handle and splashed some icy water onto his face to clear away the grit from his eyes. He was tired yet at the same time was also filled with an edgy sort of energy due to his success with the code. But it was an energy that his limbs had a hard time interpreting. Although Doyle's head was wide awake, his body was about to collapse with exhaustion. 

Standing at the pot-bellied stove, Doyle picked up an oven cloth and lifted the lid on the large cooking pot to peer inside. Celery and carrots shared residence with the onions and dark chunks of beef. It smelt amazing and his stomach grumbled again in agreement. After giving the stew a brief stir, he replaced the lid and wondered where Bodie had wandered off to. With food on the stove, he was sure the other man hadn't gone far. 

The thought of eating alone didn't appeal to Doyle. He slipped on his coat and went outside. Learning his lesson about calling Bodie's name out loud, he scanned the trees, looking for any signs of which direction Bodie may have gone. There was no frost on the ground to highlight footprints like the last time he had gone in search of Bodie. Noticing some impressions in the dirt that appeared to be the freshest, he headed off into the trees.

***

Krivas was silent as he moved towards Doyle. Having watched Doyle these past few days, he was beginning to understand why Bodie was drawn to him, there was something incredibly alluring about the man. 

It wasn't time to take Doyle yet. The work on the code needed to be finished first before Krivas could play with him, but if Doyle got too close, he'd have no other choice except to snatch him. 

As Doyle moved even closer, Krivas stilled and decided to let fate choose for him. If Doyle came to him, then he would know the man was meant to be his now. 

Games of chance such as this always thrilled Krivas. He felt his entire body vibrating with anticipation. Doyle was close – very close – only a few yards away. The camouflaged clothing Krivas wore, along with the thick trees and brush surrounding him concealed him from Doyle's sight, but Krivas could clearly see the other man. Each curl of the scruffy hair, the green of those cat-like eyes and the high cheekbones, including the slightly deformed one on the right. The dark circles under Doyle's eyes were new, though, and from this close up, he could tell Doyle had lost weight since the time Krivas had first seen him.

_Tsk, tsk, Bodie. You're obviously not taking very good care of the lad. Clearly you don't deserve him._

A few more steps and Doyle would be within his grasp. Krivas silently urged him closer with his mind, his hands clenched, itching to reach out to grab Doyle. Suddenly, Doyle stopped, looked down and frowned as he studied the ground. The exotic features paled and Doyle's eyes went wide in fear. Krivas had no idea what had scared Doyle but he knew he had not been seen. 

Krivas nearly released an angry roar when Doyle turned and hurried away, heading back towards the cottage. Instead, he pounded a fist into his palm. 

Fate had betrayed him.

Doyle had betrayed him, and would have to be punished for it.

Krivas grinned. He could hardly wait. 

In his mind, he pictured Doyle tied to a chair, unable to move his arms and legs. Krivas saw his fingers going into that curly hair, squeezing tightly as he pulled Doyle's head back until he screamed. And Krivas would bet his life that Doyle had a beautiful scream. His dick got hard just thinking about it.

Staying in place until he was sure it was safe to move, Krivas slipped out from where he'd been hiding. He went to the same spot where Doyle had stood and tried to figure out what had scared him off. Staring at the ground, he realised what Doyle had seen. Pressed into the dirt were several footprints. One set were Bodie's heavy boot treads, the second set belonged to Doyle, and the third were unknown. They definitely didn't belong to him. He was far too careful and experienced to leave behind such obvious proof of presence. 

Which meant they had a visitor.

Krivas smiled.

Maybe, just maybe, fate hadn't betrayed him after all.

***

Crouching down near the ground, Bodie looked where Doyle said he'd seen the extra set of footprints. "You're certain it was here?" he asked.

"Positive," Doyle replied with certainty. 

"Sorry, mate, but I only see your foot prints and mine."

"I'm not lying, Bodie," Doyle said angrily.

Bodie glanced up. "I know you're not."

"Sorry. Me nerves are a little frayed." Bending over, Doyle pointed to a section of ground covered by fallen leaves. "Right there."

Carefully, Bodie brushed away the leaves to reveal the patch of ground underneath. He studied the area, looking for any signs that the dirt had been disturbed, but found nothing. If there had been someone here, they'd done a bloody good job of erasing their prints.

"Nothing there now," Bodie said as he stood up.

"Bloody hell," Doyle swore, running fingers through his hair in frustration. "Maybe I only imagined it."

Bodie shook his head. "I believe you saw something."

"Think there's someone else up here?" When Doyle looked at him, Bodie didn't miss the fear that flashed in his eyes.

"Maybe." Reaching out, he gave Doyle's arm a reassuring squeeze. "No worries, mate. I'll keep you safe." He would do whatever it took to protect Doyle, but knew he could no longer do it alone. He needed help. There was too much ground to cover by himself. If Doyle was right about seeing those footprints, and Bodie believed he was, then there was someone out there with enough skill to avoid Bodie's detection.

Out of all the people Bodie knew, there were only two men who he trusted enough to help him protect Doyle. His good friends, and fellow CI5 agents, Murphy and Jax. With his long-range radio, Bodie would use the special code word the three of them had set up in case one of them got into trouble and was in need of help. Then he'd wait for one of them to send a message back letting him know if it was safe to talk. 

***

"I feel like a bloody berk," Doyle mumbled when they entered the cottage. Warm fingers suddenly clasped his wrist and he was turned around to face Bodie.

"You're not a berk. You did the right thing telling me what you saw. We can never be too careful. We're a team. As long as we stick together, everything will be okay. Do you trust me?"

Meeting Bodie's eyes, Doyle nodded. "Yes," he replied with certainty. 

Bodie raised a hand, slipped it to the back of Doyle's neck and gave a little squeeze. "Good." He smiled.

Doyle tried to return the smile, but couldn't. All he could concentrate on was the feel of Bodie's fingers as they caressed the curls at the nape of his neck. He swallowed hard and licked at his dry lips. Bodie's eyes instantly locked on to the movement of his tongue. Doyle saw his pupils expand; saw the wide shoulders shift with a sudden intake of breath. He knew Bodie was going to kiss him and he couldn't think of anything he wanted more.

When Bodie took Doyle's face between strong, callused hands, his stomach jumped and his heart skittered to life, pounding noisily against his ribs. With a shiver of anticipation, he let his eyes fall shut so he could simply feel.

When the first brush of lips came, it was almost tender, nothing at all like the desperation of their first kiss. Bodie coaxed his lips apart and Doyle eagerly welcomed him into his mouth. The moist, hot tongue swept over his bottom lip, teasing and playful, before slipping inside.

A low, needy sound rumbled through Bodie. Doyle could feel it vibrate in his own chest. Bodie's hands slid from his face, moving down his throat and coming to rest on his shoulders, where they gripped and released repeatedly as if undecided on what was the best course of action.

Doyle had no trouble whatsoever deciding. He let his hands wander over Bodie's shoulders, down his chest and around his waist to grip his back. He revelled in the feel of the sleek strength of the muscles he found there. 

God, Bodie felt so good under his fingers – strong and solid and warm. For the first time in days, Doyle no longer felt the cold grip of fear. The simple pleasure of finally being warm felt incredible.

One of Bodie's hands moved off Doyle's shoulders and slid lower, cupping his arse in a wide palm and squeezing gently. Streams of pleasure shot through Doyle and set off a tingling sensation low in his belly. He groaned into Bodie's mouth, letting him know just how good that hand felt. The kiss deepened and he was tugged forwards against Bodie. He could plainly feel the hard ridge of Bodie's erection against his thigh. Doyle couldn't stop the long moan of need from escaping.

Suddenly, the kiss was broken. Bodie stepped back enough so that their lower bodies no longer touched. Doyle blinked a few times in confusion before looking at Bodie. The blue eyes were black with lust and the muscular chest was heaving with laboured breaths.

"We've got to stop," Bodie panted.

Doyle heard Bodie's words, but it took a few seconds for his brain to process their meaning. "Why?"

"This is not supposed to happen."

"It's not?"

Doyle felt the strong hands on his arms tense. He couldn't suppress the shiver of delight that raced through him.

Bodie's nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. "I can't focus on my job when we're like this. All I can think about is the way you taste, the way you feel."

"That's bad, is it?"

Bodie cursed, briefly closing his eyes. "No. It's good. Bloody good. But it could get us both killed. I can't let myself get distracted right now."

The languid warmth of passion was beginning to fade in the face of reality. It took every ounce of willpower Doyle possessed, but he managed to let go of Bodie and take a few steps back.

"I understand," Doyle said, and he truly did. "Neither one of us needs the distraction. I'll get back to work now." He turned away from Bodie and went to sit at the small kitchen table.

***

That night, Krivas came upon a man a little further down the mountain eating dinner outside a tiny canvas tent. From his position behind the trunk of a large tree no more than six yards away, he could see the bloke was really only a kid, couldn't be more than twenty. Short blond hair that was left uncovered kept catching the light from the full moon and the fool had actually been stupid enough to light a fire.

Krivas sighed to himself. Bloody amateur.

Slipping out from behind the tree, Krivas silently moved forwards. The kid's back was to him so he never saw Krivas coming, not until the barrel of his gun was pressed up against the young man's skull. The tin of beans the kid had been eating fell to the ground with a dull thud and he threw up his hands. 

"Why are you here?" Krivas quietly growled into the kid's ear.

"I- I'm just camping." His voice cracked like a teenager's on the brink of puberty.

"If you lie to me again, you won't live long enough to regret it." The kid let out a hiss of pain when Krivas pushed the gun harder against the back of his head. "Now, let's try this again, shall we? What is your name?"

"Mark Wallace."

"Why are you here?"

"I was sent here."

"Sent here?" Kriva's trigger finger tensed. "Sent here by whom?"

"Are you Krivas?"

When Krivas grabbed a chunk of blond hair between a fist, Wallace tensed even more and his hands started to shake. "That depends. Who sent you?"

"Conor McKevitt. He said I'd find you here, or rather, you'd find me. I'm supposed to tell you to hurry the hell up."

"And why did he send you? Or are you merely a messenger boy?"

On occasion, McKevitt would send a pleb like this boy on impossible missions, and if they failed, there was just one less fool in the world. But if they succeeded then they earned a coveted spot within the ranks of The Hive.

"I'm here to earn my way into the group," Wallace said.

"The group?"

Wallace's voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Hive."

With his free hand, Krivas smacked the back of the kid's head hard, causing him to yelp in pain. "You idiot!" Krivas hissed. "Never say that name out loud again."

"All right. I got it." Wallace moved his arm as if to rub the sore spot, but wisely stopped himself.

"What are your orders?"

"Same as yours. Kill the man protecting Doyle and then bring Doyle in alive, along with all his work."

"And you think you're a better man for the job?"

When Wallace hesitated, Krivas encouraged him to answer by sliding the barrel of the gun around to his temple.

"McKevitt said you might be competition."

"Competition?" Krivas chuckled, the sound not at all pleasant. "You think you're in a class to compete with me?"

"Guess we'll see," Wallace taunted.

This cocky boy was actually issuing him a challenge. Krivas shook his head. Silly lad. The easiest thing to do would be pull the trigger and have the matter settled, except that would make too much noise. He didn't want to alert Bodie to their presence.

Having Wallace here was a definite problem, but, perhaps, it was also a blessing in disguise. A gift from McKevitt for all his years of faithful service. Krivas' mind began to churn with ideas of how he could put the lad to good use.

"Perhaps we should work together," Krivas offered.

"Isn't that against the rules? I mean, if you help me then I haven't really earned the invitation into The Hi- uh, group, have I?"

"I assure you that McKevitt doesn't care how the work gets done as long as it does."

"It won't ruin my chances of getting in?"

Trusting idiot. It was a wonder the lad had lived this long. "No. In fact, McKevitt will see you as clever for getting me to partner up with you."

"You'd let him think it was my idea?" Wallace asked far too eagerly.

"Of course." Krivas grinned evilly.

"Really? You aren't shitting me?"

Krivas couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes, glad he was standing behind Wallace so the kid couldn't see his disgust. If Wallace was this gullible then he was doing not only himself but the world a favour by getting rid of such a dim-witted berk.

Lowering the gun, Krivas stepped around Wallace and into the firelight letting the kid see the burn scars on his face. Wallace flinched, looked away yet remained silent.

Krivas' trigger finger twitched, but he kept himself in control. He glared at Wallace and ordered, "Put that bloody fire out before it's seen and you get us both killed."

***

Doyle let out a quiet sigh of relief as soon as he was sure Bodie was asleep. It had been damn hard concentrating on his work with Bodie watching him from across the room, even when Bodie was pretending not to. In the tiny cottage, Doyle was beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed. Especially after the kiss they'd shared. He desperately needed to finish his work so he could get out of this place.

_And go where?_ the little voice in Doyle's mind asked.

Resting his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands, Doyle let himself think about what he would do afterwards – after he solved the puzzle, after he was safe, after Bodie was out of his life forever.

That thought made the breath in his lungs freeze. Having spent so much time with Bodie, Doyle realised he didn't want Bodie to leave. As large as Bodie's presence was, he felt safe and comfortable knowing the man was around.

Bodie had already told him he'd never go back to having a normal life. But did that mean he would still have to worry about someone breaking into his home at night? About armed terrorists hunting him down and forcing him to work for them? Would he have to worry about all those things without Bodie in his life to make it all bearable?

That last thought was too much for him to deal with. He felt the sudden urge to be closer to Bodie. Standing up, he quietly padded across the room to where Bodie was sleeping. 

Bodie was lying on his side on top of the sleeping bag with his gun in easy reach. In the soft glow of candlelight, Doyle could clearly see the angular line of his cheek and jaw, shadowed by a new growth of whiskers. His dark hair was speckled with silver strands, concentrated mostly at the temples. Doyle noticed that even in the deep relaxation of sleep, Bodie still looked powerful and dangerous.

Instantly, Doyle felt strongly drawn to him. The need to touch, to taste, was nearly overwhelming. He could no longer deny the desire racing through him. Kneeling down on the mattress, he reached out and very carefully brushed the back of his knuckles along the side of Bodie's face.

***

Bodie had been covertly watching Doyle through a tiny slit in his eyes. He prayed that if Doyle thought he was asleep, the man would finish touching him and go away before he became a sodding idiot and started kissing Doyle again. He knew, this time, if he started, he would never be able to stop.

It was easy for him to feign sleep, he'd done it many times before in the past, and he did so now with every ounce of the skill he possessed. It wasn't hard for him to keep his breathing deep and even – his heartbeat, however, was another matter entirely. It was all Bodie could do to lie still as Doyle moved his hand across Bodie's cheek in what felt like a loving caress.

All kinds of stray thoughts began to pass through Bodie's mind about how it would feel to have Doyle touch him like that in other, more sensitive places. He would, of course, return the favour. He was a gentleman, after all.

Still keeping his eyelids partially closed, Bodie snuck a peek at Doyle. His breath nearly hitched in his throat. The lantern light burnished Doyle's auburn curls to a deep-fiery copper and bathed his skin with golden highlights. Doyle was stunningly beautiful by firelight. The flaws of fatigue and strain were washed away by the soft glow, leaving behind Doyle's natural masculine beauty. This is what Doyle must look like when there were no people out to kill him. When he didn't have the weight of the lives of countless others on his shoulders.

Cool fingers touched his temple then slid to his jaw, caressing his skin over and over. Even though there was not one part of him that was not completely and widely awake, Bodie continued to pretend to sleep just so he could revel in the feel of being petted. Doyle's hand moved up again. This time fingers strayed to Bodie's hair, playing with the sort strands as if enjoying the texture.

"Bodie," Doyle whispered, bringing himself closer to Bodie.

Bodie could smell the subtle scent of Doyle's skin, feel the warmth of his body as he came near. Because his eyes had closed completely again, he had only the warning of warm breath against his neck before he realised what Doyle was about to do.

When Doyle's lips met his skin just below his ear, Bodie let out a long, deep groan and his body shuddered. It was one of his own personal erogenous zones. The feel of Doyle's mouth pushed his lust past the point of being bearable. His jeans became painfully tight, restraining his raging erection.

With a growl, Bodie reached out, burrowed his hands in Doyle's soft, curly hair. He dragged Doyle over to his mouth, swallowing the startled gasp in the midst of a demanding kiss. Doyle stiffened slightly then parted his lips and kissed him back. Tentatively at first, as if Doyle wasn't sure if Bodie was going to pull away at any moment, but finally surrendering to it.

Their mouths melded together. Tongues met with an odd familiarity, as if they'd kissed dozens of times before. Yet it was new and thrilling at the same time.

Bodie surged upwards, flipped Doyle onto his back, pinning the lean body beneath his own. He wrenched his mouth away and demanded in a low, rough voice, "Tell me you won't regret this later."

When Doyle looked at him, his eyes were a deep forest-green. They held the triumphant gleam of a man who was about to get what he so desperately wanted. "No, Bodie, no regrets," Doyle promised.

That was all Bodie needed to hear. He let go of his restraint and kissed Doyle with every ounce of the pent-up sexual frustration and longing he'd kept buried inside for over two years. Without hesitation, Doyle accepted his ferocity. Doyle groaned into his mouth, hands grasping and sliding over Bodie's back and shoulders.

Their bodies melted together, their lips tasted and roamed, their tongues duelled in an erotic dance that sent fire licking through Bodie's veins. He was hit with a sudden craving to feel hot, bare skin next to his own and the give and thrust of slow, sweaty lovemaking.

"Need you," Bodie whispered into Doyle's ear.

"Yes. Need you, too," replied Doyle in a voice filled with hunger.

Bodie slid his hands beneath Doyle's jumper, loving the heat of sleek skin against his palms and fingertips. Inch by inch, he pushed the material up, taking a moment to lick circles around Doyle's hardened nipples, drawing a soft hiss of breath from his lover.

"Bodie… Christ," Doyle murmured.

Smiling, Bodie nudged Doyle's arms up and slid the jumper off completely. Doyle didn't waste any time divesting Bodie of the tracksuit top and t-shirt he wore. Their gazes locked as they slowly began to rid each other of their remaining clothes, both taking time to fondle swollen cocks until their breathing came out in sharp rasps and soft words of lust.

The firelight played across Doyle's chest and lean body, accentuating how damned masculine and handsome Doyle was. It made Bodie want him even more. 

"Roll over," Bodie demanded in a soft tone.

Doyle complied, stretching out on his stomach, resting his head on his folded arms. Straddling Doyle's legs, Bodie slid his hands up Doyle's back, down his sides, slowly working his way to Doyle's arse. Taking his time, he massaged the soft, firm bottom, enjoying the feel of Doyle trembling each time he slid his thumbs or fingers along the tantalizing crease between the cheeks.

"Feel good?" The only reply Bodie received was a long, pleasurable groan.

Taking that as a 'yes', Bodie continued to tease, allowing his thumbs to burrow deeper into the warm cleft. With each pass, Doyle's fingers clutched at the sleeping bag and his hips lifted off their makeshift bed until, eventually, tremors shook his entire body.

With a chuckle, Bodie asked, "Is there something you want, love?"

Doyle lifted his head and glared over his shoulder. "Touch me, damn you."

"I _am_ touching you." Bodie smirked.

"Oh, God." Doyle moaned and dropped his head back down in frustration.

Bodie caressed Doyle's arse yet again, enjoying the feel of the hot skin against his fingertips. Moving a hand lower, he took Doyle's balls, kneading and squeezing the tight sacs gently.

"Please," Doyle begged, his hips lifting from the sleeping bag. He rose up onto his hands and knees in silent invitation.

It was an invitation Bodie could not refuse. The sight of that beautiful arse raised and ready for pleasure nearly undid him. His cock was hard and leaking, more than ready to be buried deep within Doyle's hot, willing body. 

Leaning forward, Bodie kissed the back of Doyle's neck. "Don't move. Be right back." Getting to his feet, he hurried into the kitchen, retrieved a small bottle of cooking oil before quickly retuning.

Bodie was about to kneel between Doyle's legs when Doyle suddenly rolled onto his back. "I want to do it this way. Want to see you."

Bodie smiled and brushed a few wayward curls away from Doyle's eyes before taking that delicious mouth in a long, passionate kiss. "I'm going to fuck you now, Ray," he murmured. "Unless you stop me."

Doyle's hunger-filled eyes met his own. "Not stopping you. Want it, too."

Bodie kissed him hard, his hand moving between them to take hold of Doyle's stiff cock. Doyle's body jerked, his hands moving up to clutch at Bodie's shoulders as he pushed himself into Bodie's tight fist.

"Bodie… please, no more teasing."

With a final nibble at those tempting lips, Bodie quickly coated two fingers with the slick oil and pressed them deep inside Doyle. Bodie groaned at the feel of the hot, tight muscles clenching and unclenching around his fingers. When Doyle shifted anxiously beneath him, Bodie pressed his weight down against Doyle to hold him still. He slid his fingers in and out, taking his time to prepare Doyle, loving the way Doyle's body responded. 

"In me… now," Doyle ordered, bringing his knees up toward his chest. 

Wanting to do just that, Bodie slicked his own shaft, pressed the tip of his cockhead against Doyle's opening and pushed. They both groaned loudly when Bodie buried himself to the hilt. Bloody hell. He had never seen anything so erotic than watching his cock disappear into Doyle's firm, beautiful arse. 

Pushing one of Doyle's knees farther back, Bodie pulled out slowly, only to thrust back in hard and deep over and over again. Bending forward, he placed one hand next to Doyle's head, the other he used to grasp Doyle's cock. Doyle's back arched, his body writhing beneath him, begging for more. Grunting quietly, Bodie let go of his self-control, drew back only to thrust in with more force. Doyle cried out Bodie's name and reached up to grab hold of Bodie's biceps, squeezing tight. 

Bodie couldn't get enough of Doyle. Couldn't bury himself deep enough or feel enough of their skin pressing and sliding together. He wanted to lose himself in this man forever. 

Doyle met each of Bodie's thrusts, pushing against him harder and harder, and then suddenly Doyle's muscles clamped down on Bodie's cock. His lover let out a shuddering cry, coating Bodie's hand in hot cum. Pleasure so intense, it was nearly painful swept through Bodie. Seconds later, he found his own release. He threw his head back in a nearly silent sob and came, liquid heat pouring from him to coat deep inside Doyle.

Bodie collapsed against Doyle's side. Wrapping his arms around him, Bodie pulled his lover into a protective hold. Doyle was still breathing rapidly as he curled around Bodie. Hands caressed Bodie's chest as they both tried to catch their breaths.

Turning his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Doyle's head. He then tilted Doyle's chin up and captured his mouth, in a still-hungry, open-mouth kiss, expressing with actions what he didn't dare allow himself to say out loud.

***

Doyle was still asleep when Bodie woke. He pulled himself away from his lover's warm body. After a stutter of breath, Doyle burrowed deeper into the cosy sleeping bag. Bodie couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. After trying for days to coax Doyle into getting a decent amount of sleep, it seemed funny that he'd finally found the right tactic to use – wear the man out with sex.

Just the memory of being with Doyle, of burying himself inside that hot, tight channel, was enough to get Bodie hard again. Even after making love two more times, his body was ready to go for round four. Christ. He hadn't been like this since he was a teenager. Coming several times in one day? Sure. But several times in a few hours? Not so much.

Perhaps it was the years of self-imposed celibacy that had him running so damn hot. Or perhaps it was the way Doyle reacted to his touch, the way he sounded when Bodie had slid deep inside his body. The way Doyle smelt after his skin was hot with lust and sweat. The way his green eyes went dark with hunger when he came.

Oh yeah. All those things definitely made his jeans suddenly fit a little too snugly.

But rather than get back into the sleeping bag with Doyle and give in to his unquenchable libido, Bodie turned away and forced his mind to focus on business. He had to make his rounds of the perimeter again to be sure it was still secure. Every time he walked the circuit of the cottage, his gut nagged him with worry. He was sure he hadn't missed anything, but it wouldn't take much skill to evade the primitive security measures he'd put in place.

It was the best he could do with such limited resources, but he felt it wasn't good enough for Doyle. 

Then again, neither was he.

That thought was pretty sobering. It was enough to douse any remaining warmth Bodie carried from the previous hours he'd spent in bed with Doyle. He prayed to God that Doyle had meant it when he'd said no regrets.

Slipping quietly out of the cottage, Bodie hiked the property, focusing solely on the land, looking for any signs of trespassers. None of his traps had been sprung, none of the vegetation had been shifted out of place, and there were no tracks other than his own. Even though that nagging feeling had eased slightly, it was not cured. He would definitely be keeping a close eye out while Doyle worked. Doyle seemed to be making good progress now. As long as Bodie didn't distract him, they'd be out of here soon.

Somehow that thought wasn't as appealing as it had been yesterday. Sex with Doyle had changed everything. He found himself no longer dragging his feet as he made his way back to the cottage. Instead, he was hurrying to get there, wanting to see Doyle again.

An odd fluttering of excitement filled Bodie's belly. He thought about whether or not Doyle would still be naked when he got back. Whether or not he could wake Doyle up by sliding his tongue across one of those dark, rosy nipples. He imagined how easy it would be to push himself inside of Doyle while his hole was still slick from the last time he'd come inside him. Suddenly, his jeans began to stretch again and his balls ached for release. He should have been scared shitless just thinking of wanting to spend time with Doyle – that they could, perhaps, start something a little more serious. 

Christ, what the hell was he thinking? He'd gone completely stark raving mad. That was the only explanation he could come up with for why, after one night with Doyle, he was already thinking about having a relationship with the man.

Relationships of any kind had no place in his world. Especially not now. He couldn't safely spend time with someone he cared about without worrying who was watching him, and whether or not he'd put that person at risk just by being in the same room with them. He was a walking target. This was to be his last mission. He fully intended to take out every one of The Hive, no matter the price.

When he walked inside the cottage, Doyle was just pulling a heavy jumper over his head. Other than shoes, Doyle was completely dressed. Disappointment slowed Bodie's steps as he shut the door behind him. Damn, he'd really been hoping Doyle would still be naked.

"Hello," Doyle greeted him with a hesitant smile. After retrieving some papers from the table, he sat down in the chair near the pot-bellied stove. "Could you pass me the pencil?"

Bodie picked one up from the table and held it out, trying not to notice his hand was shaking. He cursed silently and clenched his jaw against the urge to kiss the man. 

"Ta, mate," Doyle said, his smile faltering. And who could blame him, Bodie reckoned he looked about as friendly as a bear. 

He tried to find a smile, or at least school his features into a mask of neutrality, but couldn't. 

Doyle licked his lips in a nervous gesture, his gaze sliding towards his papers. "I should get to work."

"Ray." When unsure green eyes looked up at him, Bodie clamped down his jaw to stop himself from speaking. He was about to tell Doyle that although it had been the best sex of his life, he couldn't let it happen again. It was much too dangerous for either of them to become emotionally attached. That they had to stay focused and professional and keep their distance. Emotions tended to run high during crisis situations and this certainly qualified as one. It was natural for them to come together in an effort to release some of the tension that had them both pulled tight enough to shatter. But instead of saying any of that, all Bodie said was, "I'll make us something to eat."

Before he turned to walk away, Bodie didn't miss the hurt he saw in Doyle's eyes.

***

Doyle couldn't concentrate worth a damn. The symbols on the paper kept running together as his thoughts strayed to other things… like Bodie, and sex with Bodie.

He lowered his head and banged it gently on the wooden table top. _Bloody hell._ What in the world had he been thinking? His life was complicated enough. Now it had got a whole lot worse since sex had been added to the mixture. 

He jumped slightly when wide, warm hands settled on his shoulders and began a sensuous kneading. A little shiver raced through him as he remembered how wonderful those callused hands had felt caressing his skin. How they felt wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in long, slow strokes. And he would never, ever forget what it was like to have Bodie inside him. Nor the sheer power of coming around Bodie's erection while Bodie thrust deep and hard, giving Doyle no way to escape the force of his own orgasm.

Doyle had never known sex could be that good.

And he doubted it would be like that with anyone else besides Bodie.

His body screamed for him to stand up, guide Bodie to the sleeping bag, and entice the man to do all those amazing things to him once again. 

The thing that really scared Doyle, though, was knowing every time he opened himself up to Bodie physically, he was growing that much closer to falling in love with the man. But he was no fool. Sex and love were too closely linked for him to ignore the correlation. He knew a lot of times people fell in love with someone who was totally wrong for them.

And Bodie was definitely wrong for him.

Bodie had once been military. Was now a CI5 operative. Doyle had always been opposed to violence of any kind. Bodie's choice of career and Doyle's own views had no place together. Add to the fact that Bodie still had the death of his lover haunting him. Oh, yes, Bodie was as wrong for Doyle as any man could get, no matter how right it had felt between them in bed.

Doyle released a long sigh. If he let go, if he allowed himself to fall for Bodie, he would end up hurt. His life was already in enough of a mess he just couldn't risk doing anything that would make it worse. Falling in love with a man he couldn't have would definitely make things much worse.

The feel of warm lips against his neck made Doyle tense. With great difficulty he shifted away and got to his feet. "I can't. I'm sorry," he whispered with a slight shake of his head.

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and he was spun around until he was facing Bodie. "You mean you won't. Last night you already proved, beyond a doubt, that you can. Quite well in fact."

"Last night I promised you that I wouldn't regret what we did, and I don't. I'll never regret it, Bodie. But I don't think it's smart for us to be getting distracted again."

Bodie jerked away, his movements harsh and angry. "You're right, of course. You don't have to explain," he said through clenched teeth. "I'll be outside." 

Doyle winced as the cottage walls shook with the force of the door slamming. Frigid air quickly swirled through the room, chilling Doyle both inside and out. He hated seeing Bodie leave like that, but he didn't blame the man for wanting to put some space between them. Not being near each other was the only way Doyle was going to be able to resist him. 

Something deep in his gut told him he'd better be cautious, because he was falling for Bodie – falling very hard.

As he sat back down at the table, Doyle told that 'something' to shut the hell up and get back to work.

***

Bodie crouched low and went still. Someone had breached the perimeter he had set in the forest. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, searching for signs of where the intruder might have gone. Whoever they were, they were good, he'd give them that. The only way he was aware that a person had come this way was because they'd disturbed a few limbs Bodie had twisted together across one of the paths leading towards the cottage. 

The intruder had seen the security measure too late and had attempted to put the small branches back the way they'd been before, but Bodie could see the subtle differences. Like a few leaves that had been torn away and lay on the ground, bruised and slightly crumpled.

Forcing the rising fear down, Bodie put all his senses on full alert. He had to get back to the cottage and get Doyle away from here. Fast.

***

Needing some fresh air, Doyle stepped outside the cottage door and took a long deep breath. As he made his way down the small flight of stairs to the grass, his steps faltered when he noticed a slight movement coming from two places just beyond the tree line. He stopped, standing frozen in place while his work-fogged brain struggled to make sense of what he'd just seen.

Movement in two places.

And only one Bodie.

Time seemed to slow down as panic began to flood his system, making Doyle's heart race and his breathing stutter in fear.

"It's just an animal." He tried to convince himself, but his instincts were screaming at him to run.

Scanning the woods, he caught a glimpse of a human shape moving past a thin patch in the trees, sliding slowly over the rough ground with cautious, stealthy steps.

_Oh, God._ Doyle's breath caught in his throat. The Hive had found him. Where was Bodie?

Surreptitiously, Doyle made his way back into the cottage where he retrieved the gun Bodie had given him to use in case of an emergency. As much as he loathed any weapon, in Doyle's book, this situation certainly qualified as an emergency. He couldn't stop himself from being relieved to feel the cool metal of the gun pressing into his palm.

If it was The Hive, there was no bloody way he was going to let them take him without a fight.

Quickly stepping out of the cottage once again, he tried to still his trembling hands as best he could. If he got cornered inside the tiny building, he'd be trapped since there wasn't a back door to use as an escape route. Right now, his only chance of getting out of this safely was to get to Bodie. 

Knowing the front porch held no cover from flying bullets, Doyle scanned the area. The large pile of chopped wood held the best potential for cover. A few yards beyond that was Bodie's Range Rover. If he could make it as far as the vehicle, then he could surely make it past that and into the woods to find Bodie. But in order for this plan to work, he'd first have to make it to the wood pile.

Hearing the sound of heavy footfalls stirred Doyle into motion. Moving with a speed he didn't know he possessed, he sprinted for the logs. Once there he crouched behind them, praying the pile would give him sufficient protection. Even though his lungs burned from the short run, he did manage to hold onto his gun despite the fact his palm was sweaty and the weapon kept sliding around in his grip.

Getting ready to dash for the Rover, Doyle's heart dropped when he glanced at the vehicle only to see movement through the trees on the far side of it. 

"Damn," he muttered to himself. He was trapped.

Desperately, his tired brain tried to think of some other way to make his escape. The gun slipped in his hand so he clutched the weapon tight enough that it made his fingers ache.

The gun.

That was it.

If he couldn't get to Bodie, perhaps he could get Bodie to come to him. Pointing the firearm straight in the air, Doyle squeezed the trigger hard. The recoil stung his hand and jarred his arm and wrist. Even though he'd anticipated it, the boom was much louder than he expected, making his ears ring. He just prayed wherever Bodie was, it had been loud enough for him to hear it. Doyle had no doubt that if Bodie heard the shot, he would come to his rescue. Now, all Doyle had to do was make sure he survived long enough for Bodie to get to him.

In an effort to buy some time, Doyle peered over the top of the log pile and yelled, "Stop moving about, or I'll shoot!"

The movement in the brush suddenly stopped and Doyle let out a shuddering breath. At least they were listening. "Throw out your weapons," Doyle shouted.

After a few, tense seconds, he heard the dull thud of steel landing on frozen ground. Peeking over the wood, Doyle could see the shape of two handguns resting in the dirt a few feet beyond the tree line.

Looking at the weapons, Doyle frowned. That had seemed much too easy. If they'd been members of The Hive, he figured they wouldn't have given up without a fight. For a moment, he thought perhaps the men were only hunters, but decided against it since hunters usually used rifles, not revolvers.

"Come out slowly with your hands on your head," Doyle ordered, proud that his voice hadn't wavered.

One man came out from under the cover of some brush. Just as Doyle had asked, his hands were on his head. His clothing blended perfectly with the autumn forest surroundings and the brown skin of his face was smeared with black paint, obscuring his features. He was a tall, lean man who moved with the same sort of predatory grace Doyle'd seen in Bodie.

That confirmed it for Doyle; he knew he wasn't dealing with some local hunter.

Getting to his feet behind the log pile, Doyle pointed his gun at the man, willing his hand not to shake. He really didn't want to shoot anyone, but if pushed to do it, he would pull the trigger. "Get on the ground. Face down."

The man said nothing as he began to lower his body as if to lie down. He moved a little too slowly, though, almost as if he was trying to stall for time.

That's when Doyle realised his mistake. He'd been so focused on the one man in front of him that he'd forgotten all about the other intruder. 

A sick feeling twisted the insides of his stomach. He turned to flee, except he was too late. Before he could move, a muscular arm came around his neck and his gun was wrenched away from his grasp. He tried to yell, only to have a hand clamp over his mouth at the same time as the air was crushed from his lungs by a strong arm wrapping around his chest, pinning his hands to his sides.

Anger seared through him, giving Doyle a burst of strength. He thrashed and kicked, landing a few good blows to the man's legs that brought forth grunts of pain from his captor. With a hard shake of his head, Doyle tried to dislodge the hand covering his mouth, only the grip was too firm. No matter what he did to attempt to get away, the man held him tight. Doyle was unable to escape.

"Hold still," the man commanded in a low voice. "I won't hurt you."

Suddenly, Doyle felt the man holding him go completely still. Less than a second later Bodie's voice filled the air. "That's right, mate. You won't hurt him, at least not while I've got this gun to your head."

"Easy," said the man as he let go of Doyle. "I'm letting him go, Bodie. No need to shoot me. It's Murphy."

"Bloody hell, Murph." Bodie jerked the big man around to look at him, gun now pointed at the ground. "I nearly shot your fool head off."

"Jax is here, too," Murphy said, motioning with his head toward the second man. "Your boy here," he pointed at Doyle, "has him kissing dirt."

Jax pulled his body off the ground and brushed the dirt from his legs and upper torso. "Hey, I only played along so Murphy could have enough time to get into position to disarm him. I was afraid the lad would do something stupid like shoot one of us."

Bodie's eyes raked over Doyle's body from top to bottom. "You all right?"

Doyle nodded, his breathing finally starting to slow down. The sudden relief that he was safe made his head spin and he had to sit down on the chopping stump to regain his sense of balance. "You know these blokes?" he asked, looking up at Bodie.

"Yeah. Jax and Murphy, remember I told you they work with me. You sure you're okay?" Bodie lifted a hand as if to stroke Doyle's mussed hair, but stopped short and let his hand drop.

"I'm fine," Doyle replied and stood back up. He'd actually been terrified, but he wasn't about to admit that in front of these two strangers. Besides, he was still trying to decide if he wanted to hug them both for being the good guys, or throttle them for scaring him nearly to death.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Murphy asked, concern evident in his eyes.

"No," answered Doyle. "Did I hurt you?"

"Me shins may never be the same again. Other than that, I'm good." Holding out his hand, Murphy said, "I'm Murphy. That one over there is Jax."

"Ray Doyle." Doyle took Murphy's hand and nodded a greeting at Jax. "Sorry. I thought you were the bad guys. Guess I've been a little jumpy lately."

"No worries." Murphy flashed him a charming smile.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Doyle." Bodie assured. This time he did reach out to brush his fingers lightly against the side of Doyle's head. "I should have told you they might be coming, only I wasn't sure my message would get through."

"It got through," said Murphy.

"Thank God." Bodie pulled Murphy to him in a brief, hard hug. 

Doyle noticed that Murphy was a few inches taller than Bodie and appeared to be a little more muscular. Even under all the paint smeared on his face, Doyle could tell Murphy was a very handsome man, but he lacked the rugged good looks Bodie possessed.

Jax, on the other hand was leaner than both men, with a build that reminded Doyle of a long distance runner. His movements were fluid and easy and his brown eyes glittered with humour.

Walking up to Bodie, Jax hugged him quickly, smacking him on the back. "You sound surprised we'd get the message."

"When you left CI5, we told you all you had to do was call, and we'd come," Murphy added.

"Wasn't sure if the number was still good. A lot can happen in two years," replied Bodie.

"Not so much that we wouldn't be here for you," said Jax. "How many times did you save both our arses? We couldn't leave a debt like that hanging."

Bodie nodded in understanding. "What about Cowley?"

Grinning brightly, Jax replied, "He was kind enough to give Murph and me leave when he heard about our sick friend who needed tending." 

Bodie eyed Jax, his mouth twitching with a grin. "As much as I'm relieved to have you both here, I don't want either of you screwing up your careers because of me," he said, voice serious.

Murphy smiled, smooth and friendly as he placed an arm across Bodie's shoulders. "Hell, mate. We're not here for you. Came to see the eye candy, we did." He gave Doyle a wink. "You know how I can't keep my hands off the brown haired beauties." Murphy's smile turned warm as he looked at Doyle. 

_Oh, yeah,_ Doyle thought as he grinned back, _this guy was a serious flirt._

"Hands off this one, Murphy. He's taken." Bodie winked at Doyle.

Clearing his throat to hide his embarrassment, Doyle asked, "Anyone want some tea?"

Jax and Murphy both nodded happily, but Bodie just stared, his blue gaze hot and unwavering. "Go inside. We'll be there in a few minutes."

It was a dismissal, and Doyle knew it. Normally the order would have made him bristle, except under the circumstances, he was more than happy to obey it just to be back inside where it was warm, and where Bodie didn't look at him like he was about to kiss him.

Because if Bodie did kiss him, all his emotions would boil up inside him, just like they did last night. As it was, Doyle was already on edge, struggling to keep control over his fear and worry and lust. There was no room for anything more right now.

***

Bodie had to use every ounce of self-control he possessed just keep himself from taking Doyle into his arms and stripping him naked to make sure that he was all right – that Murphy really hadn't hurt him.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he ran his fingers through his hair. Good God. The things that had raced through his head when he'd heard that gunshot, then saw Doyle fighting to get free of Murphy still made his blood run cold. Never in his life had he been so afraid.

Not even in the past when he'd been about to descend into The Hive's camp to recover Nicolas' body.

Bodie wasn't sure what was happening to him, but whatever it was, it wasn't good for his thinly held control.

Moving his gaze from Doyle to his mates, he found them watching him intently. "What?" he asked.

"Okay, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"I know you, Bodie," Jax said. "Your face has guilt written all over it."

"I should have been here," Bodie said, hating himself for not being close enough to save Doyle the fear of encountering two strangers bearing weapons. What if it hadn't been his mates? Bodie's gut clenched at the thought and he tried to push it to the back of his mind. 

"You can't be everywhere at once," Murphy spoke up. "Get over it."

_That was easier said than done,_ Bodie reckoned. "So, what did Cowley tell you about this op?"

"Nothing," Jax replied. When Bodie raised an eyebrow in question, he continued, "All he said was..." he paused, before saying in a bad imitation of Cowley, "On your bikes, lads. Go help your ailing friend."

Bodie smirked at Jax before he started to explain, "A few weeks ago, some of our lads took down a group of men they suspected of selling weapons. They weren't just any group; they were part of The Hive." Before Bodie could continue, Murphy's expletive cut him off.

"Not again!" Murphy's face darkened with anger and he kicked angrily at the frozen ground. "I thought we killed all those bastards."

"Apparently not," Bodie angrily huffed out.

"So, how does Doyle fit into all this?" Jax asked.

"Ray Doyle is smart. Really smart. Cowley tracked me down and pulled me back into CI5 to protect him," Bodie explained. "He's the only surviving person who has any chance at all of cracking this old code. It contains the location of a cache of stolen weapons and warheads. Needless to say, The Hive wants it for themselves, which means they also want Doyle."

"Oh, God," Jax whispered, his brown eyes filling with anger.

"We can't let them get Doyle, or those weapons," Bodie said.

"Agreed," Murphy said and Jax nodded. "How do you want to handle this?"

"We stay here until Doyle's finished cracking the code," Bodie replied. "Once we know what it says, we may know what to do next."

Murphy's eyes narrowed in thought as he scanned the tree line. "There are only a couple of ways up this mountain and only one road that comes all the way up here. Jax and I can keep watch there while you stick with Doyle."

"No." Bodie shook his head. "I want you two to stay as close to the cottage as possible without disturbing Doyle. He needs to concentrate on his work. I've already set up perimeter traps, but I want more, and I want them constantly monitored." 

"You got it." Murphy clamped Bodie on the shoulder. "I'll go get our gear."

"Want some help?" offered Jax.

"Can handle this mission all on my own, I think." Murphy flashed them both a smile before jogging off with long, powerful strides towards the woods.

Bodie turned to Jax. "I'd like you to stay with Doyle while I set up camp with Murph and keep an eye out for any intruders."

"You know I'd do anything for you, mate, but I really think if you asked Doyle, he'd want you watching over him instead of me."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't have any say in this, does he," Bodie said and stalked back to the cottage with Jax not far behind.

***

Krivas frowned at the arrival of Bodie's men. He enjoyed a good challenge, but the odds were quickly becoming stacked against him. That simply wouldn't do.

He wasn't foolish enough to risk losing Doyle, which meant he was going to have to call for back-up, and not some know-it-all, snot-nosed punk like Mark Wallace. He wanted men that he himself had trained, men who knew the price of failure.

As quietly and unobtrusively as possible, Krivas slid silently back out of sight. The big guy they called Murphy kept looking his way. Even though he knew he couldn't be seen, he didn't want to take any chances. There was also something about Murphy that was a little disconcerting. The man seemed way too perceptive for Krivas' liking. He was going to have to do something about him before things got out of hand. Murphy was far too dangerous to leave alive.

Krivas walked away, going in the opposite direction from Murphy. He had some planning to do and not much time left to do it before McKevitt sent someone else.

The time for patience had come to a close – it was time to take Doyle.

***

Wanting to give the three men a little room to discuss their plans, Doyle decided to eat his dinner sitting in the chair by the stove. Besides, listening to them chat about strategies and perimeter defence and a bunch of other things made Doyle's eyes glaze over. So, he tuned them out, ate his food, and let his mind focus on his work.

It took a few minutes for the silence to sink in. He glanced up to see three sets of eyes looking expectantly at him as if someone had just asked him a question and was waiting for a response.

"Sorry. What?" Doyle asked.

"Do you want any more to eat?" Bodie asked, but something in his tone led Doyle to believe that hadn't been his original question.

"No, thanks."

Murphy looked from Bodie to Doyle and spoke in a low, even voice. "Jax and I will wash up. Why don't you two go for a walk?"

Doyle's stomach jumped at the thought of being alone with Bodie again. When Bodie stood and reached his hand out toward him, Doyle found he wasn't able to refuse. He wanted to touch Bodie very badly.

Silently, Bodie took Doyle's hand and they headed outside into the remaining light of sunset. They walked down the steps and headed in the direction of a small foot-path Doyle had seen Bodie use several times before. The wind teased at his curls, bringing with it the scent of fallen leaves and frost covered earth. His steps seemed loud compared to Bodie's though he had no idea how a man of Bodie's size could make so little noise walking over dry leaves and sticks.

Still holding Doyle's hand, Bodie led him a short way into the concealed cover of the surrounding woods before he stopped. "We need to talk," he said, his voice grim, determined.

Doyle dreaded what Bodie might have to say. All he wanted right now was to finish his work and be on his way. "Out with it, then."

"Someone has to stay with you tonight. I know things got out of hand between us. Won't say I'm sorry, because I'm not." Bodie pulled his hand away and took several steps back, putting distance between them.

"I'm not sorry either, Bodie. I said no regrets, and I meant it." He honestly didn't regret sleeping with Bodie, regardless of the consequences. Life was too short and precious to waste even a minute of it.

With Bodie's back to him, Doyle could see the tension flowing down his back and arms. "I don't know exactly what this thing between us is, but I wanted to make sure you knew how I felt. About last night, I mean. I felt…" Bodie trailed off with a string of low curses. "I'm not sorry it happened, that's all."

Doyle went to Bodie, knowing he was playing with fire. He reached out, placing a hand on Bodie's back. "Neither am I, but for now I think we need to not think about it."

Bodie whirled around so fast Doyle jumped back in shock. Those dark blue eyes blazed with anger and something more intense. "Try not to think about it? It's all I _can_ bloody think about! Every time I look at you, all I can think about is how it felt to slip hot and hard into your body over and over again. I see your mouth and remember the way you moaned, the way you tasted. I see your hands and remember how they felt moving over my back and arse. The way it felt to have your warm fingers wrap around my dick and stroke me until I was going mad with lust and the need to come."

Bodie's words lashed over Doyle like the whip of a flame – hot and bright and way too intense. His body began to shake as he remembered all too well how it had felt when Bodie had taken him over the edge again and again. 

And Doyle wanted more.

Now.

Right here in the forest, cold wind be damned.

He didn't care that there were people not far away. Didn't care that the ground was frozen and the air chilled. All Doyle wanted was to feel Bodie against him again, to feel the pleasure only Bodie knew how to coax from his body.

He reached for Bodie, only to have him take a step back. "You'd better be sure before you touch me," Bodie demanded. "I don't have much control left, and if you touch me, it will all be gone."

Doyle didn't have to think, he was more than sure.

He wanted Bodie regardless of the consequences. Perhaps it was self-destructive. Perhaps even wrong, but he simply didn't care anymore. His attraction to Bodie was too strong to fight.

And he wasn't interested in fighting anyway.

With slow, deliberate movements, Doyle stretched out his arm and touched Bodie's cheek, caressing it with the back of his fingers. The muscles in Bodie's jaw bunched as he gritted his teeth. Doyle could see a fine sheen of sweat break out over his brow.

Then all Bodie's control vanished. Doyle could see it in Bodie's eyes, in the way his expression changed from one of pain to one of acceptance – of victory.

Bodie reached for him, pulling Doyle in for a hard, fervent kiss. He gladly welcomed the thrust of Bodie's tongue into his mouth and returned the passion in kind. Grabbing Doyle's hips, Bodie pulled him closer. Their erections pushed together, causing them both to moan. Doyle's world collapsed in on itself until it included only them. The sound of their pleasure. The heady scent of Bodie's skin.

He felt Bodie's hands squeeze his bottom, sending tremors of electric current along his limbs. He ripped his mouth away from Bodie to find the salty heat of his throat. God, he loved the way Bodie tasted, rich and spicy, strong and sharp. It was a very exhilarating flavour. He didn't think he'd ever be able to get enough of it. 

Sliding his mouth upwards, Doyle licked and nibbled gently, right below Bodie's ear, where he knew it would make Bodie growl in pleasure. He loved the feel of the hard, muscular body beneath his fingertips. Loved the way Bodie's hands clenched and kneaded his arse as he neared Bodie's favourite spot with his tongue.

Bodie shoved Doyle back a few steps, pinning him up against a thick tree. He held Doyle tight, hips pivoting slowly, grinding against him in a way that made Doyle's blood catch fire. 

"Want you," Doyle panted against Bodie's neck.

"Yes," Bodie hissed before kissing Doyle hungrily.

Heat flared out of control. Doyle clutched at Bodie's shirt covered chest before sliding his hands upwards to grasp the short, black hair. He angled Bodie's head, shoving his tongue inside his mouth, growling his pleasure as he claimed possession.

Bodie eased back slightly to make quick work at undoing their jeans and sliding the material just below their hips. Insinuating himself between Doyle's spread legs, Bodie reached down to hitch Doyle up off the ground. Once again, Doyle was pressed hard against the tree, Bodie holding him up more with the force of his body than with the strength in his arms.

"So good," Doyle groaned, head thrown back as he held onto Bodie's shoulders and wrapped his long legs around Bodie's waist. He couldn't stop his loud moan of pleasure when their groins rubbed together. 

One of Bodie's hands dropped down between them. Fingers encircled both their dicks, holding them together as Bodie slowly began to stroke up and down. Doyle closed his eyes, thrust upwards once, then let Bodie do the work of jacking them off until they were both panting hard, their breath mingling like puffs of smoke in the cold air. 

Bodie's teeth nipped at his neck, his jaw, his ear, and that talented hand never stopped moving. Their pre-come mingled together, providing a slick surface as Bodie brought them nearer to orgasm. He took cues from Doyle's sighs and moans to stroke faster. Doyle could tell that Bodie was getting close as his jacking became erratic. Doyle gasped. God, he was so close! Just a bit more...

"Gonna come," Doyle panted.

"That's the idea, love."

Doyle's balls drew up at the low, growly tone and he felt a tingle begin at the base of his spine. Slamming his hand down on top of Bodie's, Doyle encouraged him to speed up until they were both grinding desperately into Bodie's closed fist. 

The wind carried away the sounds of their lovemaking as Doyle's voice rose to a more demanding pitch. The feel of Bodie's hard arms holding him, touching him, and the sexy sounds Bodie made brought him towards greater heights of pleasure.

"Now, _now,_ " Doyle hissed, but Bodie was coming before he was.

"Goddamn," Bodie groaned, jerking helplessly. Then Doyle arched his back and shot all over their joined hands, the pleasure so intense, it made him cry out.

Their breathing sounded loud in the quiet of the night, but Doyle didn't care. His entire body was sated and pliant. He draped his arms over Bodie's shoulders, trusting the man to hold him up.

Once their heart rates slowed, Bodie stepped back a little. He helped Doyle slide his legs back down to the ground then pulled Doyle's jeans back up, fastening them. As Bodie adjusted his own clothing, he watched Doyle with a guarded expression.

"You okay?" Bodie asked. "Had you pressed pretty hard against the tree."

Doyle wasn't able to keep the smile from his face. He could still feel the impression of the rough bark along his back and the heat of Bodie's hard body against his front. "Don't care. Christ, Bodie, that was amazing."

Bodie returned the smile. "You know, I had intended to bring you out here to ask if you'd rather Jax stay in the cottage with you tonight."

Doyle's eyes widened. "Jax?"

"Yeah, well, changed my mind, haven't I. After that," he motioned vaguely at the tree they'd just used shamelessly, "Don't think I could let that happen. At least without wanting to kill someone. I'm not typically a jealous bloke, but I find myself unwilling to want anyone else to spend time with you."

Something inside Doyle melted at Bodie's confessed words.

"Good." Doyle smirked and moved closer to Bodie. "I'm not the sharing type." He slid his hands up Bodie's chest, around his neck and pulled him down for a long kiss.

It was at that moment Doyle became aware of his mistake. Despite his keen intelligence and years of advanced education, despite his warnings to himself that he would keep his distance from Bodie, despite the fact Bodie's career and his own principles could never mesh, Doyle had gone and done it.

He'd fallen deeply in love with Bodie.

***

Bodie sat on the steps in front of the cottage the next morning, drinking coffee with Jax and Murphy in order to give Doyle time to work in peace. Doyle had said he was close to a solution and Bodie prayed he was right.

He had talked to Cowley earlier in the morning via the long range radio. The information that Cowley had passed on to him infuriated him, but at the same time, it filled him with sadness. He'd been putting off telling Jax and Murphy what he'd been told, knowing his mates would be just as upset by the news as he was.

"So, 'fess up, mate. What did Cowley say?" asked Murphy.

Bodie released a long breath before saying, "He found the informant..." he paused and looked first at Murphy and then at Jax. "One of our own."

"Who?" Jax demanded in disbelief.

"Matt Thompson," Bodie stated. The man had been a friend to all three of them, but most of all to Murphy.

There was silence for a full minute before Murphy cursed and stood up. He thumped down the steps, paused then angrily threw his coffee mug across the clearing towards the woods where it shattered as it hit the frozen ground.

Jax swore, shook his head and glared at Bodie. "You're sure?"

"Yes," Bodie replied. He then spoke loud enough so Murphy could hear the rest of the news. "The Hive had his son held hostage in exchange for information, though by now, I'm sure the boy is dead. Cowley has had Thompson under interrogation for the past forty-eight hours, hoping to get the current location of The Hive out of him, but it doesn't look hopeful." He paused, waiting until Murphy turned to meet his gaze. "Sorry, mate, but Cowley's going to try more extreme tactics in a few hours just to make sure he's not lying. He thinks it's safe for us to come back. However, I disagree. I want us to stay put for now. It's safer here."

Murphy flinched when Bodie explained the plan. After a moment, he shook his head in disgust and came to stand in front of Bodie, his eyes hard and cold. "If we're going to stay here, we need to plan a trip into town tomorrow for food."

Bodie's hearing picked up on Doyle's low mumble of incoherent phrases coming from within the cottage. His heart warmed at the thought of having a little time alone with him again. Soon Doyle would be finished with his work, and they'd go their separate ways. He wanted to spend as much time with him as he could before that happened.

"Why don't you both go into town?" he said to his mates. "Doyle and I will be fine here."

Getting to his feet, Bodie joined Murphy at the bottom of the steps. He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave a brief squeeze. "Sorry about Matt."

"Yeah." Murphy shook his head. "Was just surprised. Never expected it'd be him."

"None of us did," Jax said as he came to join them. "Come on, Murph, let's go check the perimeter and leave the lovebirds alone for a while."

"Jealous?" Murphy teased although his face was still serious.

"You're bloody right I am. Bodie went and got himself a brainy, gorgeous man while I haven't got laid in weeks," Jax said with a grin.

"Weeks?" said Bodie with mock horror, thinking of his two-year celibacy. "You poor thing."

"Bugger off, Bodie," Jax grumbled and headed for the tree line. "I'm going to go walk the perimeter and think about the woman I'm going to pick up while we're in town tomorrow."

"He will, too," Murphy said when Jax was gone.

"Will what?" asked Bodie.

"Find some woman willing to go for a quick shag in a hotel with him, or perhaps just a public bog. I swear the man can sense an easy target from a quarter mile. He'll be off getting his jollies and leave me to do the shopping."

Bodie laughed. He couldn't help it. He'd missed his mates too much not to enjoy their quirks.

***

Doyle put down his pencil and straightened up the chaotic pile of notes spread out on the scarred kitchen table. It was after dark and he could hear men's voices out on the porch, joking and laughing together. He could easily pick out Bodie's voice. Every time the man laughed, it made Doyle smile. It was a wonderful sound. One he knew he wasn't going to hear for much longer. He was nearly done deciphering the code. A few more lines to debug and he was sure the program would work.

Once finished, Bodie would take him to Cowley, and then Bodie would go back to his own life. A life that didn't include Doyle.

It was a bleak thought, one he refused to dwell on at the moment. For now, Bodie was here and Doyle would use what little time they had left to make plenty of memories that he could keep with him even after Bodie was gone.

Getting up, Doyle went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. When it had steeped long enough, he poured the hot liquid into four cups and carried them outside, using an old chopping board as a tray.

As he pushed through the door, the men outside fell silent. All eyes were aimed directly at him. "What?" he asked.

"We just didn't expect to see you pull yourself away from your work," Jax replied.

Bodie stood and took the cups from Doyle, handing them out. "Everything okay? You stuck again?"

Doyle shook his head. "Just at a sensitive point. If I start wading through the code without a clear head, I'll end up doing more damage than good. I'll start again in the morning when me mind is fresh."

Sipping at his tea, Bodie stared at Doyle over the rim of his cup, eyes shining with humour. "That sounds suspiciously like you're planning on actually getting some sleep tonight. And not at the table, either."

Doyle grinned at him. "Thought I'd give the sleeping bag another try. I'm less likely to fall off it than I am the chair."

Out of the corner of his eye, Doyle saw Jax nudge Murphy with his elbow. "We should head over to our camp."

"Right." Murphy agreed, rising to his feet. "Night, Bodie. Doyle." After setting his cup on the porch, Murphy followed Jax into the tree line where they'd camped last night.

"Why don't they stay in the cottage with us? They've got to be freezing out here," Doyle asked.

"I promise you they don't even feel chilly. We've been cold before and this isn't even close. Besides," Bodie smirked, "they don't want to intrude on us."

Doyle stepped up to Bodie, placed both hands on Bodie's hips and tugged him closer. "They don't, do they?"

"Nope. But, if it makes you feel better, I'll go and get them and order them to sleep inside."

"No." Doyle grinned. "Quite all right."

Bodie was staring at him, his blue eyes dark in the dim light of the porch. Only the soft glow from the lantern inside lit the space and Doyle could see the hunger in Bodie's eyes. Bodie wasn't moving away, but he wasn't moving closer either, he was giving control over to Doyle to make the next move.

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Bodie's neck and kissed him, slowly and gently. Bodie's hand slid around Doyle's waist, gripping him, holding him close. He could feel the length of Bodie's erection pressed hard against his thigh.

Doyle's tongue played along the slick inside of Bodie's bottom lip, his teeth grabbing gently and tugging on his mouth. Bodie released a groan, cradled the back of Doyle's head and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. His head swam with wonderful sensations. He let himself float in the midst of it. Nothing else mattered right now except Bodie – his mouth on Doyle's and their bodies pressing against each other, firm and hot.

Suddenly, Bodie pulled away, his gaze focused on Doyle's mouth. He could feel Bodie's hands flex on him, one against his scalp, the other along his hip. "You're sure about this?" Bodie asked.

"No doubt about it. Need you, Bodie. Want you."

Bodie's nostrils flared as if he was pulling in Doyle's scent and his jaw bunched with tension. "God, I love hearing you say that."

Doyle offered him a seductive smile. "Let's go inside." He took Bodie's hand and led him into the cottage, making sure the door closed tightly behind them.

"Take off your clothes," Doyle said huskily.

Bodie raised an eyebrow, his mouth lifting up at the edges, and began to undress. Doyle watched with complete attention as Bodie removed his boots, socks, jeans and shirt. It didn't take long before Bodie was standing before him, stark naked, very aroused and utterly immodest. In the dim light, Bodie's arms and legs were accentuated with deep shadows. His chest muscular and smooth. The sight made Doyle's fingers itch to slide over the masculine contours. Bodie's penis jutted out from a nest of dark hair, pointing proudly upwards, its tip glistening.

When Bodie next spoke, his voice was low and rough with arousal. "Look your fill, because as soon as I get you naked, we'll be pressed too close together for you to see anything."

Bodie reached for him, but Doyle quickly stepped back, dodging his hands. "Let me," he said, wanting to give Bodie the same thrilling show that Bodie'd just given him. "Just watch." 

Doyle's fingers slowly opened the buttons of the flannel shirt he'd borrowed earlier from Bodie when the need for warmth had sent him searching through his lover's belongings. Warmth, and the excitement of the very idea of Bodie's clothing resting against his skin brought forth.

Bodie gave a low rumble of approval as Doyle shed the rest of his clothing with slightly trembling hands. He swallowed, fighting for control amid the wash of desire, of lust that threatened to swamp him. To send him to orgasm without Bodie laying a finger on his body.

"That's enough," Bodie rasped as he closed the distance between them and pulled Doyle's nude body into his arms. When their bodies met and the softness of Bodies skin brushed against his own, it lit every one of Doyle's nerves on fire.

"Kiss me," Doyle demanded, and Bodie obeyed with a triumphant smile.

Doyle opened his mouth to Bodie's passionate onslaught. Almost overwhelmed by sensation and taste, his body shook. Bodie's arms held him close and Doyle relaxed in the embrace, trusting Bodie when he lowered them to the sleeping bags spread on the floor. Bodie knelt next to him, stroking his fingers up Doyle's stomach, over his hairy chest, pausing at his nipples. Doyle gasped as Bodie pinched each nipple to hardness before he sat back on his heels, a grin on his face.

"Mmm, yeah," Bodie said, staring at Doyle's stiff cock, his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip. Leaning down, Bodie claimed Doyle's mouth yet again in a deep, passionate kiss. "You drive me crazy." He threaded his fingers through Doyle's hair as he straddled his waist. "Out of my Goddamned mind."

Doyle rose up and kissed Bodie then, hungrily, need unfurling low in his belly. When they broke apart, they looked at each other. Something passed between them, something Doyle couldn't put a name to. He only knew he wanted Bodie, wanted them wrapped around each other until they couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

With Bodie still sitting on his lap, Doyle took his mouth again, hard and demanding. They thrust against each other, seeking friction until Bodie whispered, "Hold on," against his mouth. Doyle watched as Bodie got up to retrieve the oil and then a second later he was back on the sleeping bag with him, his mouth hot on Doyle's neck.

"Want you," Bodie mumbled into Doyle's ear, fingers seeking out Doyle's cock. "Want to feel you inside me."

Doyle didn't miss the heat in Bodie's blue eyes. Before he could say anything, Bodie slid over and onto his back, feet planted on the soft material of the bag, legs spread wide. Doyle's heart skipped a beat at Bodie's wanton appearance and he quickly grabbed for the jar of oil. Reaching out, he slowly ran a finger over Bodie's opening before carefully pushing one slick finger deep inside until he brushed against Bodie's prostate

"Oh, God," Bodie groaned loudly, "do that again."

"You're really tight," Doyle whispered.

"Been a while. Not since..." Bodie trailed off, a hint of sadness in his voice.

_Not since Nicolas._ Doyle's mind completed the sentence and his own heart once again hurt for everything Bodie had been through. A sudden, almost overwhelming surge of protectiveness towards Bodie washed over him. He bent over to claim Bodie's mouth, putting everything he felt for this man into the kiss.

After working two fingers into Bodie to prepare him, Doyle pulled out. Using the oil, he slicked up his dick while Bodie watched. "Gonna go slow," Doyle told him. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Don't care. Just do it, Ray," Bodie panted.

Taking Bodie's legs in his hands, Doyle pushed them forwards then nudged his cock at the hot, tight entrance. "Ready?" Doyle asked. At Bodie's nod, he pushed in, pausing to see if Bodie was all right, but Bodie just threw his head back, and spread his legs wider.

With a groan, Doyle pushed all the way in, both of them sighing at the sensations. He withdrew just a little before he buried himself all the way to the hilt again. "God, Bodie, feels so good. So tight. Not gonna last long." He started thrusting in earnest, making sure he hit Bodie's prostate over and over with each inward plunge.

Bodie bucked up, meeting Doyle's thrusts. He pounded into Bodie, any pretence of rhythm lost in their wild lovemaking. Reaching between them, he took Bodie's cock in hand, the pre-cum lube enough for his fingers and palm to slide easily up and down the hard, hot flesh.

It was almost over, Doyle could feel it, his balls growing tighter with each thrust into Bodie, but he wasn't doing this alone. Dipping his head down, he tongued the edge of Bodie's ear before whispering, "I'll never get enough of you. Going to come... right _now_!" Doyle's cock jerked and pulsed inside Bodie's ass. He let out a shout as his orgasm raced through him.

Bodie released a groan from deep within his throat and arched his back off the sleeping bag. One hand slammed down on the bed while he held the other arm over his eyes. Doyle could feel Bodie's whole body shudder from the force of his orgasm, the heat of his cum spreading over both of them.

They kissed lazily for what seemed like hours after that, stopping only when Bodie rolled over, leaving Doyle lying on one sleeping bag. Opening the second, Bodie first snuggled in next to Doyle then draped the bag over their sated bodies, tucking the material under Doyle's chin. Bodie's expression was warm and tender when he reached out a hand to lightly run fingers back and forth along Doyle's cheek before pulling him in for a long, sweet kiss. _God, he's such an easy man to love,_ Doyle thought as he closed his eyes and gave himself over to Bodie's ministrations, basking in the feel of being touched and caressed.

"You need to sleep," Bodie said, placing a light kiss on the tip of Doyle's nose.

"Mmmm... yes, I'm exhausted." And he punctuated that by releasing a wide yawn. His body satiated and so very tired from all the physical strain and mental pressure. There was a part of him that wanted Bodie again, however, the rest of him was just too tired to do anything about it.

Bodie rolled onto his side, pulling Doyle against him. Doyle's back was cradled by Bodie's chest and strong arms were wrapped around his waist.

"Sleep, love," Bodie whispered.

Doyle was out before he could find the strength to reply.

***

Bodie held Doyle for a long time before he slipped from the warm cocoon of the sleeping bags to retrieve a flannel. He'd made a mess of Doyle's body and his lover had been too tired to clean himself up. Wetting the material, he held it over the stove until it was warm before going back to their make-shift bed.

Doyle was so deeply asleep he didn't even twitch when Bodie ran the cloth over his chest and stomach. Bodie smiled, glad Doyle would be getting a decent night's sleep tonight.

Bodie would see that he did. 

He was going to stay right by Doyle's side all night, holding him. 

After cleaning himself, Bodie dropped the flannel onto the floor, and slid back between the sleeping bags. Once again, he pulled Doyle into his embrace, pillowing his lover's head on his chest. Doyle's warm breath swept out over his skin in a sleepy sigh of contentment. Bodie tightened his arms around him at the warm tingling feeling that suddenly flowed through him. There was nowhere else he wanted to be; nowhere else he could imagine himself at this moment.

He had no idea what he was going to do once this assignment was over, but he knew he didn't want to let Doyle go. Perhaps it was the fact that Doyle was the first man he'd been with since Nicolas. Then again, perhaps it was something more. Even though he wasn't sure, he did know one thing... he wasn't letting Doyle go until he knew whether what he felt for him was as real as he feared it might be – hoped it might be.

Bodie had lost one man he loved; he'd die before he lost another.

***

Just before dawn, Krivas approached Wallace where he was sleeping at the base of a large tree. He had one more job for the kid – one final mission. 

Before Wallace could stir, Krivas injected him with a heavy sedative. He watched as Wallace's eyes flew wide open in shock, but Krivas knew his awareness lasted only a second before the drug kicked in.

Once the kid was unconscious, Krivas lifted him onto his shoulder, shifting the weight of the lax body to a more comfortable position. Smiling to himself, Krivas walked away from the camp. He had bait, now all he needed to do was set the trap.

***

Bodie leaned against the counter in the kitchen, keeping a close watch over Doyle. Murphy and Jax had already done a perimeter patrol earlier and had gone into town for supplies. Bodie wasn't letting his concentration waver for one second from Doyle. His safety, his continued health, were Bodie's ultimate concern.

Bodie grinned. Ever since he'd woken Doyle earlier with a kiss and some pre-dawn lovemaking, Doyle hadn't said more than a few words to him. And most of those had ended up being grunts rather than actual intelligible words.

Still, Bodie understood. The cyphertext weighed heavily on Doyle's mind.

With his gaze still centred on Doyle, Bodie's smile never dimmed. Doyle looked so beautiful when he was concentrating on his work. His curly hair framed his turned down face and he had some pencil smudges on one cheek. Doyle kept frowning at the paper he was writing on, spouting out gibberish about simultaneous equations and vector analysis. Bodie bet that Doyle didn't even realise he was talking to himself.

Content to watch, Bodie simply lounged there. For the first time in years, the hollow, dead spots around his heart were coming back to life. It wasn't a comfortable process, but it was better than he'd felt in a very long time.

Since Nicolas.

Somehow, thinking about Nicolas didn't evoke the same instantaneous pain and heartache it always used to do. He still felt a pang of guilt over his lover's death. Still had that burning desire to see every last one of The Hive dead. However, Doyle had done something to help ease the searing pain he'd become so familiar with. 

Doyle was helping him heal.

If he hadn't felt it happening, he wouldn't have thought it possible.

Suddenly, Doyle went completely still, his pencil dropping from unmoving fingers. "I've done it," Doyle said in a near whisper. "I figured it out."

Bodie crossed the space in three long strides. He stared at the papers on the table, not understanding a word or symbol he saw. "You sure?"

Doyle looked up at him, excitement shining in his green eyes. At that moment, Bodie wanted to kiss him so badly he could almost taste Doyle in his mouth. "Yes. Positive. Only..."

"Only what?" Bodie asked.

Doyle bit his lip as if trying to figure out what to say. "This isn't all of the text."

"Then how do you know you cracked it?"

"Could spend the next twelve hours trying to explain my solution to you," Doyle grinned, "or you could just take my word for it."

"I'll take your word for it," Bodie replied with a smirk.

"Did Cowley give you anything else? Any numbers or instructions?"

"No, nothing."

Sitting back in his chair, Doyle released a frustrated sigh. "Then what I've done isn't going to help much."

Disappointment and relief warred within Bodie. It wasn't over yet, which meant chances were good Doyle would be with him for a little longer. "What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain without those twelve hours, but I'll try."

Doyle went into the kitchen, and found a box of dried pasta. He dumped the contents into a bowl and tore off the front panel. On the clear plastic window, Doyle drew an arrow and labelled it north. The next arrow he added pointed down and to the right.

On a paper map tacked up to the cottage wall, Doyle held up the cardboard panel. "Okay. The up arrow is north – just a reference – and the second arrow gives us our solution, which are map coordinates. The tip of the arrow is the destination this text was encrypted to hide. It's our target location for the weapons."

Bodie frowned. "But you don't know the destination unless you know where to put the arrow on the map."

"Exactly. I know the magnitude – distance in this case – and direction, but not the origin."

Frustration welled up in Bodie's chest. "Bloody hell. All this effort and nothing tangible to show for it. I'm sorry, Ray."

"It's not a lost cause. There has to be another piece of text somewhere, like this one, which gives us the origin. If we know that, we'll know where this text was telling us to go. Can't you ask Cowley?"

"I can try, but I'm quite sure he would have sent along anything he thought we could use. Is it possible you missed something? Could there be another bit of info in all that gobbledygook?"

Doyle chuckled. "It's not gobbledygook, Bodie. It's a string of equations that share like variables. The solution to that series of simultaneous equations clearly leads to a fairly simple vector analysis. I made some assumptions along the way, and if I feed my algorithm different values for certain variables, then I will get a solution with a new magnitude and direction – a different vector, but it's all fairly simple now."

Bodie just stared at him. He could feel his IQ dropping as Doyle's words slaughtered his brain cells left and right. "I'm sure it is."

Bodie could sense Doyle's agitation in Bodie's lack of understanding, but he just wasn't in Doyle's league when it came to complicated mathematical equations. 

"What do we do now?" Doyle asked, frustration colouring his words.

"Sorry, mate," Bodie said quietly.

Doyle paused before he gave a quick smile. "No worries, sunshine. Didn't mean to be snarky. After all of this," he waved a hand at the papers spread across the table, "I thought I'd done it."

"You have! Christ, Doyle, you did what all of our geniuses at Whitehall couldn't accomplish." Bodie moved closer to Doyle. "No beating yourself up. Deal?"

Doyle nodded. "Ta."

"Now let's noodle this out. First, I need you to show me how to use your solution. Then I want to get you away from this mess as quickly as possible. My gut tells me that as soon as we figure out the last piece of the puzzle, Cowley will be sending me after the weapons immediately."

Doyle looked away quickly, keeping his face averted from Bodie. "We'll be separated soon, then?"

Bodie didn't like the thought of leaving Doyle behind any more than Doyle did, nevertheless, he knew it was Doyle's best chance for survival. At least until all this was over. He couldn't very well drag the man into the remaining Hive stronghold while he was hunting them down. He needed to know Doyle was safe. "Afraid so, mate."

"Will I see you again?" Doyle's quiet voice was tinged with vulnerability. It made Bodie want to pull him into his arms and promise to never leave his side again. Which was, under these circumstances, about the stupidest thing he could possibly do.

"You will." Bodie didn't promise. He didn't even know if he'd survive this mission, but if he did, he would hunt Doyle down no matter how deeply they tried to bury him in any of the government's protection programs. He and Doyle belonged together. He wasn't going to willingly let him go unless one of them decided to call it quits.

Even though Doyle nodded, Bodie could see that Doyle didn't believe him. Bodie didn't blame him one bit. Even he had a hard time believing he would come out on the other side of the mission alive. The odds weren't great, but they were better than they had been before Doyle had given him a reason to live – which was more than he'd had in a very long time.

***

Jax and Murphy were nearly finished patrolling the perimeter Bodie had set up to protect the cottage when Murphy heard a faint noise. He stopped, motioning Jax to do the same and tilted his head, listening.

"You hear that?" Murphy asked.

The sound came again, louder this time, a faint moan coming from the woods to their right.

Jax nodded and pointed to a thick growth of brush growing along a ditch which ran along the south side of the road leading up to the cottage.

"Cover me," said Murphy as he readied his weapon and moved forward.

He could feel Jax standing guard at his back, knew his mate would keep watch in case this was some sort of trap.

The breezed shifted, and the smell of blood filled the morning air, thick and heavy – lots of blood.

Leaning down, Murphy eased aside a few branches. Under the dense overhang of twisted stems and dried leaves he saw an arm clothed in hunter's camouflage and a pale hand caked with dried blood. Cautiously, Murphy pushed away more branches until he could force his body through a tight opening.

The man moaned again, a low, pitiful sound. He was lying on his side and there was a deep gash a few inches above his right knee. The heavy fabric of his trousers was sliced open and soaked with blood around the wound. Just above the horrible cut, the man had buckled his belt tight around his thigh, making a tourniquet to help stop the bleeding. A bloody axe lay on the ground a few feet away next to a partially chopped chunk of wood.

The poor bastard had damn near hacked his leg off while gathering firewood. From the amount of blood staining the ground, it was a wonder the man was still alive.

"Got a man down," Murphy told Jax.

"How bad?"

"Pretty damn bad," replied Murphy.

"Anyone we know?"

Murphy turned the man over so he could see his face. "He's only a sodding kid. Looks all of seventeen. We need to get him some help."

"The van is just down the road. We can drive him to hospital."

Carefully, Murphy lifted the injured kid into his arms, the motion causing the boy to let out a rough groan. 

As Murphy manoeuvred his way out of the brush, Jax kept a careful watch of the surrounding area, ready to go when Murphy was clear of the branches.

"Let's get moving," said Jax. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

***

Krivas watched the two men until they disappeared around a bend in the gravel road. Wallace wasn't going to survive long enough to get to hospital – Krivas had made sure the kid had lost too much blood for that – but he'd served his purpose. He'd been excellent bait.

Krivas made a mental note to thank McKevitt for sending the kid the next time they spoke. 

With both of Bodie's mates shortly to be blown into tiny pieces by the explosives he'd set in their van, Bodie and Doyle were going to be much easier targets. 

A wicked grin spread across Krivas' face. Things were definitely turning out in his favour.

***

Even though Doyle knew his time with Bodie was growing short, he tried not to let it interfere with what he had to do. He'd shown Bodie how to insert new values into the program for the missing variables and how to interpret the results. He'd even made Bodie practice – many times, much to the man's discontentment.

While Bodie used his long range radio to contact Cowley, Doyle stood at the pot-bellied stove, adding a few logs to the fire so he could heat up some water for tea. 

Across the room, Doyle heard Bodie speak in a low voice into the receiver. "No, sir. Doyle is sure. There has to be another script we didn't recover."

Doyle could barely make out Cowley's voice cursing on the other end of the line. 

"Yes, sir. Those were my exact thoughts, too."

Cowley said something that Doyle couldn't decipher, however he did see the muscle in Bodie's jaw jump. 

"No, it wasn't a waste of time," Bodie said. "Find the team that recovered the text and maybe they'll have a clue..." Bodie paused, his eyes closing for a moment, but not before Doyle saw a flash of grief shining behind his lashes. "All of them? When were they killed?"

Bodie leaned hard against the counter, looking more defeated with every word. "Just what do you expect me to do out here?" Bodie asked Cowley. "Doyle's gone as far as he can with the intel we've given him. You want us to start making things up?"

Over the crackling of the fire, Doyle didn't hear what Cowley's reply was, he only noticed Bodie's hand as it clenched around the square, plastic handset so hard Doyle thought the device would break apart.

"No, sir," Bodie growled. "That won't be necessary. Just give me the coordinates of where the team found the script and I'll go there meself."

At Bodie's words, the last piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place in Doyle's head with a nearly audible click. "That's it, Bodie. The origin. It has to be from the perspective of whoever wrote this cyphertext. Where was it found?"

"Hold on, sir," Bodie said into the receiver. To Doyle, he rattled off the coordinates that Cowley had just given to him.

"One second," Doyle told Bodie and went over to the table to hurriedly work out the data into his formula. A few minutes later, he jumped up and rushed over to a slightly worn world wall map. Marking off a series of lines and arrows on the map – just like he'd shown Bodie using the window on the pasta box – the longitude and latitude information resulted in pointing to one geographical spot.

When Bodie saw the area, he swore under his breath then brought the receiver up to his mouth and spoke into it. "We're going to need cold weather gear, sir. We're headed to the USSR."

Just then, there was the sound of a gunshot and the tiny window in the door of the cottage shattered. With his gaze already on Bodie, Doyle saw his head rock back. Saw blood splatter on the dingy grey wall behind Bodie, and watched in shock as Bodie collapsed to the floor. 

"No!" Doyle's cry echoed off the walls as he rushed to Bodie's side.

***

Murphy tried not to jostle the kid as he and Jax hiked back down the road to where they'd left Jax's small panel van.

"He's not going to make it long enough to get to hospital," Jax said.

Glancing down, Murphy could see the kid's shallow breathing and ashen skin. "You're probably right, but we have to try."

"I know." Jax clapped him on the back. "You want to lay him out in the back?" 

His partner's gun was still in his skilled hands, his eyes constantly roamed over the trees and brush. Jax could hit nearly anything he could see with that weapon, but that did little to ease the tension that had started to grow between Murphy's shoulder blades ever since they'd found the injured kid. 

"I'll hang on to him. Try to cushion the ride for him," Murphy answered.

As they neared the van, Murphy and Jax both slowed, surveying the area for signs that anyone had come this way.

"Looks clear," said Jax.

Murphy saw nothing, however that nagging worry was still grating against him. "Yeah. Looks clear."

Jax gave him a sideways glance. "You got a bad feeling?"

"Yep."

"God, I hate it when you get those."

"So do I."

Jax opened Murphy's door so he could manoeuvre both the kid and himself inside the passenger's seat. The van dipped under his weight, the shocks squeaking in protest. Jax hurried around the vehicle, all the while keeping his eyes on the tree line as he slipped behind the wheel.

The inside of the small van was as beat-up as the outside, with a wide crack running along the top of the dashboard, matching those in the aged vinyl seats. The van smelled of sun-baked plastic, aging foam, greasy food and something else Murphy didn't recognize – a harsh smell, like week-old sweat and a faint chemical odour that flirted with his memory.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jax's hand as it slid the key into the ignition. 

Suddenly it hit him.

Homemade explosives.

That was the smell. _Bloody hell!_

"Stop!" Murphy shouted, and yanked Jax's hand away from the key.

"What's wrong?"

"Get out of the van! Now! It's wired to blow."

Their eyes met briefly before Jax slowly opened the driver's side door and eased out of his seat. Murphy leaned towards the steering column, the movement awkward with the kid in his lap, but he managed to get down far enough getting a good look underneath. A bundle of wires led from the ignition to a small metal can that still had the tuna label attached. Murphy knew he'd be able to disarm it, only it would take time – time the kid didn't have.

Time Bodie and Doyle didn't have.

Someone was out here trying to kill them and Bodie needed to know it, the sooner the better.

"We need to get back to the cottage and warn Bodie," Murphy said when Jax opened his door for him. 

Murphy moved quickly. He got out of the van and laid the kid a safe distance away. There was nothing he or Jax could do for him now. Only seconds ago the lad had taken one last breath, shuddered then died in Murphy's arms. 

Jax raced to the back of the van, and retrieved a rifle. "Catch up when you can," said Jax, and took off running up the lane.

With the boy's blood drying on his hands, Murphy barely took a moment to shake his head at the loss of life before he took off after his partner.

He was nearly at the cottage when he heard the distinct crack of a rifle. He never paused, only sent up a silent prayer that it was Jax doing the shooting, and that his partner, Bodie and Doyle were all still alive.

***

Doyle crouched down beside Bodie. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was still yelling in denial, yet the rational part of his brain had kicked into gear and assessed the situation.

Bodie's left shoulder was bleeding profusely. Seeing the wound, Doyle was extremely grateful the bullet hadn't veered more to the right and everything vital. He could tell Bodie was conscious but appeared to be groggy, probably caused from hitting his head hard against the kitchen counter when he'd collapsed to the floor.

Doyle didn't dare move him, but knew he had to do something to stop the bleeding. Quickly pulling off his jumper, he tied the material around the bullet wound, pulling it as tight as he could. The movement caused Bodie to groan in pain and his eyelids fluttered halfway open.

A noise outside caught Doyle's attention. He didn't need anyone to tell him it was the heavy pounding of helicopter blades. 

The Hive was coming.

Adrenaline surged through his blood, giving him speed and strength. He only had a few seconds before they were here. He needed to make sure the work he'd done wouldn't fall into the wrong hands. 

Jumping up, Doyle raced to the table and scooped up all the papers containing the cyphertext. Without hesitation, he threw them into the pot-bellied stove. He watched for a second, making sure all the papers had caught fire before slamming the stove's door shut. Right now, he didn't care about his work being thrown away. He only cared about making sure Bodie stayed alive. 

Next, he ripped down the wall map, folding it into a small square. Once again at Bodie's side, he pulled back the collar of Bodie's shirt and slipped the map between material and skin, stuffing it as far down as it would go. He then knelt in front of Bodie and gently patted his cheek. Slowly, the dark blue eyes opened, and Doyle could see confusion clouding them.

"Bodie!" he shouted. "Come on, mate! Look at me. Remember what I told you the first time we made love?"

Bodie blinked and Doyle could see him struggling to focus. "No regrets," Doyle said, staring directly into Bodie's unfocused gaze. He didn't know if Bodie had enough wherewithal to understand him at the moment, but he couldn't go on, couldn't face what he knew was going to happen, without reassuring Bodie in some way. "I'll never regret being with you. No matter what happens, always remember that. You did the best you could." Then he took Bodie's face in his hands and kissed him gently, filling the kiss with everything he felt for this man.

He grabbed Bodie's gun tightly in a shaking hand. Just as he stood up, three armed masked men burst through the door, sending a spray of wood splinters into the air.

Doyle turned towards them full of fury, raising the gun to fire. 

However, one of the intruders was quicker than Doyle. Before he could squeeze the trigger, one of the men fired his own weapon. A sharp pain in his leg made Doyle gasp. When he looked down, a small tranquilliser dart protruded from his thigh. _Not again!_ he thought. With his next breath, his head began to spin. His arms and legs started to tingle. He tried to take a step forward, but stumbled and fell hard to his hands and knees. His breathing became shallow and suddenly he was pitched into a giant back hole that swiftly consumed him.

***

Jax was too late to stop the man carrying Doyle from getting into the helicopter. Just before Jax could get a shot off, the bloke had disappeared around the corner of the cottage with Doyle's limp body thrown over one shoulder. 

However, the two men struggling out the door with Bodie's body were an entirely different story.

Training taking over, Jax controlled his breathing as he peered through the scope on his rifle, targeting the head of the man carrying Bodie's feet. Jax didn't have time to wait for his heart to stop racing, so he found the rhythm of the beats and made his shot between them.

A spray of blood bloomed into the air from the man's head, but before the dead body hit the ground, Jax was already finding his next target. Three seconds later, the next man crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap.

The helicopter pilot must have been given orders to leave without them, because the chopper was already rising steadily into the air, whipping the limbs and leaves of the nearby trees into a frenzy of motion.

Once again, Jax peered through his scope, this time targeting the pilot. Before he took the shot, he hesitated. Doyle was on that chopper, and if Jax took the bird down, Doyle may be killed. If that happened, he knew not only would his boss be beyond upset, but Bodie would never recover. Assuming Bodie wasn't already dead.

That thought had the air rushing out of Jax's lungs and, with a vicious curse, he lowered his rifle to his side and ran towards Bodie to see if he was still alive.

***

A deep throbbing in Bodie's head and shoulder woke him. A sense of urgency called him out of the blessed comfort of unconsciousness and he struggled to recall what was so darn important.

In a sudden rush that made him dizzy, he remembered.

"Ray!" Bodie shouted, surging to his feet.

His head spun wildly, and he could barely make out the little cottage among the blurry images swimming before his eyes.

"Easy," Murphy said. "Just take it easy and sit down."

Murphy pressed down on his uninjured shoulder until he was once again sitting on the kitchen's wooden chair.

"Where's Ray?" Bodie demanded.

"We're going to find him, Bodie," Murphy replied.

_Find him? Wasn't Doyle here?_ Fear and guilt threatened to drive him back into oblivion. 

Doyle was gone. Taken.

Reaching out, Bodie clutched Murphy's shirt, not caring how desperate he sounded. "I have to go after him."

"We will," assured Murphy in a low, comforting voice. "But first we have to figure out where to go."

Bodie's vision had cleared enough that only the edges of his sight appeared fuzzy. The pain pounding at the back of his head was still there, as was the deep burning sensation in his left shoulder. Right now none of that mattered, he had to push the pain aside and put all his focus into finding Doyle.

Bodie rubbed at his forehead in an attempt to ease the pain. "How long was I out?"

Murphy checked his watch. "Nineteen minutes. Jax took out two terrorists but the chopper took off. Doyle was already gone, along with all his papers."

"Do you think Ray is...?" Bodie couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. Just the thought of Doyle dying the same way Nicolas had was enough to bring him to his knees.

"They need him alive, Bodie. They might have his work, but they need Doyle to decipher it. They'll keep him alive as long as he's useful to them."

_Alive. Yes, Doyle could still be alive._ He had to hold onto that thought in order to stay sane.

"Doyle is the one who saved you when you got hit. He used his jumper to tie off your wound. He's one hell of a smart man. If he hadn't stopped the bleeding, you could have bled to death."

Bodie cursed. "Yeah, smart enough that he had to get tangled up in this mess."

"The bullet went right through and didn't hit anything vital," Murphy explained as he finished wrapping the dressing around Bodie's wound. "You'll be fine." He patted Bodie on the back and got to his feet.

Looking up, Bodie could see Jax across the room, using the radio and speaking in low tones. When he brought his eyes back to Murphy, he noticed the blood staining his mate's shirt. Lots of blood. It was smeared all over him in blotchy patches. "Are you hurt?" Bodie asked in concern.

Murphy's jaw tightened. "It's not my blood." 

"Jax?"

"Not his either. Conveniently found a bloke wounded in the woods. At first, we thought it was some sort of accident. He had an axe wound in his leg and there was chopped wood lying about. But when we got him back to the motor, I smelt something odd."

"Eh?" Bodie asked.

"Chemical. Knew it was homemade explosives. The kid died in my arms. I'd bet my stake the same men who took Doyle killed that kid."

"Bloody hell," Bodie cursed and Murphy nodded.

"Did you see or hear anything that might tell us where they've taken Doyle?" Murphy asked. 

Bodie tried to concentrate on remembering what had happened, but it was hard to push aside his emotional response to Doyle's danger – his fear for Doyle and the guilt that he'd let this happen. If The Hive did to Doyle what they did to Nicolas...

"Focus, Bodie," Murphy said, giving Bodie's good shoulder a little shake. "You've got to keep it together."

Bodie knew Murphy was right. If he didn't start thinking with his head instead of his heart, Doyle didn't have a chance.

Pulling in a deep breath, he tried to recall the last thing he could remember. "I was talking to Cowley about getting some more information. Doyle figured out what the text said, but it was incomplete."

"Jax is on the radio with Cowley right now. Is there anything else you remember?"

Bodie felt something swirling in his memory. A soft, gentle kiss.

Doyle had kissed him right before being taken, and there was something Doyle had said... _"No regrets... I'll never regret being with you. No matter what happens, always remember that."_

Bodie uttered a curse. How could he have let this happen? How could he have let them take Doyle?

Murphy's strong hand settled on Bodie's arm. "Think, man. What was Doyle doing while you were talking to Cowley?"

Bodie's head throbbed harder as he tried to remember. "Doyle said something about needing the coordinates of where they'd found the text. He thought it might be the missing information. Cowley had just given them to me..."

"Go on."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bodie pushed himself to summon up his memories. "I gave the coordinates to Doyle. He added them to his formula and..." In his mind, Bodie could see the triumph on Doyle's face, the way he'd grinned at him so happily it had made his heart sing.

"And, _what_ , mate?" Murphy pushed. 

Bodie shook his head as frustration burst through him. "I can't remember. Damn it!" He pounded his fist down on the wooden table top. Pain radiated through his body, and he let out a growl of frustration at his condition and the entire situation. "We've got to figure this out before they do. I'm sure that's got to be where they've taken Doyle."

"How are we going to figure out where to go?"

"I don't know!" Bodie spat. "Doyle's gone. His work is gone!"

Just then Jax came over and Murphy turned to him. "How long before our ride arrives?"

"They're closing in now," replied Jax as he eyed Bodie. "We need to head out."

Using the table to push himself up, Bodie rose to his feet, being cautious so he wouldn't pass out again. Doyle needed him. He'd do everything in his power to make sure he was able to help him.

Inside his shirt, he felt something slide down along his abdomen. Puzzled, he reached inside and pulled out a square of folded paper smudged with bloody fingerprints.

Unfolding the paper, he revealed the small map that had earlier been pinned up on the wall – the map Doyle had used to mark out the exact spot where the weapons could be found.

A spark of hope lit deep inside Bodie's heart. He was going to find Doyle.

"Is that what I think it is?" Murphy asked, peering over Bodie's shoulder.

Bodie nodded with a feral smile. "I don't know how Doyle managed to pull it off, but I'm bloody glad he did."

Outside, Bodie could hear the faint thrumming of a helicopter coming closer. Ignoring his pain, he stepped out onto the porch alongside Murphy and Jax, silently urging the pilot to hurry the hell up.

***

Doyle woke up on some sort of military aircraft, the hard metal floor under his feet vibrating with the roar of the jet engines. His ankles were tied to the frame of the seat he occupied, his wrists lay in his lap, secured with metal handcuffs and a rope was wrapped firmly around his chest.

His head felt like it was going to explode right off his shoulders and his mouth tasted like it had been cleaned out by rat poison. The feelings weren't unfamiliar. He'd felt the same way when he'd woken after being tranquilised at his home. But the circumstances were different this time – this time Bodie wasn't here to take care of him.

Doyle felt his eyes tear up momentarily as he remembered Bodie lying on the floor of the cottage, bleeding and unconscious. He wondered what they had done with Bodie. Was he here? Was he still alive? 

Needing to know if there was a chance Bodie was here with him, he cracked his eyelids open slightly, biting back a groan against the painful effects of the dim light filling the aircraft. The plane was about twenty feet wide, filled with crates and some kind of electronic equipment. There were six men wearing black military clothing, but without any flags or symbols to give away their loyalties. They spoke in quiet voices which Doyle couldn't hear over the drone of the jet engines, so their language was of no help.

His heart dropped when he noticed Bodie was nowhere in sight, and Doyle knew that meant he was on his own.

One of the men turned and saw that Doyle was awake. The bloke was short, with a sturdy, muscular build. He had short close cropped hair and sported a thin, dark moustache. Everything about him shouted 'average' except for the evil gleam in his dark eyes and the horrific burn scars that claimed half of his face.

The man approached him and held out a canteen. "Thirsty?"

Doyle looked at the container, briefly wondering if the liquid was drugged. He quickly decided against it since they would need him awake to work. And he was terribly thirsty, so he nodded. 

Unscrewing the cap, the man pressed the canteen to Doyle's mouth. After he swallowed a few gulps, it was taken away. "These will help with the headache," the man said, holding out two while pills.

Doyle turned his head away. He didn't trust these men and wasn't about to make it easy for them to kill him.

The man released a low, amused chuckle. "Suit yourself."

"Who are you?" Doyle demanded.

"You can call me Krivas. We'll be spending a lot of time together, you and I."

Something in the way Krivas spoke made the hair on the back of Doyle's neck stand on end. "What do you want with me?"

"What a foolish question from such an intelligent man." 

Krivas tossed the canteen aside. Looming over Doyle, he placed one hand on each armrest of Doyle's seat and leaned down until their faces where mere inches apart. Doyle kept silent as he studied the emotionless face. There was no warmth there, no compassion. Only greed and evil. Instantly, he knew that as soon as Krivas had what he wanted, Doyle would be a dead man.

"You're going to tell us what the text said."

Doyle knew his only chance to stay alive was to stall Krivas. As soon as Bodie found the map, he'd figure out how to find Doyle – he was sure of it.

"Don't know if I can. You see, I hadn't deciphered the code yet-"

Krivas hit him hard across the face. The blow hard enough he could already feel his cheek swelling and taste the blood from his split lip.

"I don't think you fully grasp the magnitude of your situation, Professor Doyle," Krivas snarled and grabbed the back of Doyle's hair, jerking his head until he was staring straight up at Krivas. "We know everything about you. We know who your friends are. We have men watching your family. Do you really want them to suffer for your stubbornness?"

His mum and sister's face crystallized in Doyle's mind, and he couldn't stop the single tear from sliding silently down his cheek. "I can't." He didn't explain that he couldn't risk the lives of others so his family could live.

"We'll see," Krivas said. He turned to retrieve a small metal box. From inside he withdrew a syringe and a vial full of liquid. 

Doyle began to tremble, no longer able to fight back the terror that had been swelling in his chest since he'd opened his eyes. "No!" he yelled when he saw Krivas fill the syringe. Doyle struggled to get free of his restraints, but his efforts were to no avail. He was trapped here, at this madman's mercy and there wasn't a sodding thing he could do about it.

Krivas casually injected the liquid into Doyle's arm without thought of disinfectant. It was just one more sign that they didn't care if he lived long-term.

Heat suddenly raced along his veins, making him shiver and sweat at the same time. After a few seconds, the plane appeared to swell and shrink repeatedly, throbbing with each beat of his heart.

Krivas stared at him, grinning evilly. "Don't worry," Krivas said, his voice oily with a mockery of compassion and reached out to stroke Doyle's hair with a gentle sweep of his hand. "It won't be long now."

***

Bodie saw the armed guards walking a perimeter of the old soviet compound and knew he was too late. The Hive had got there first.

Night cloaked the movement of his team as they moved into position. They wore black clothing and had parachuted in over a mile away. The hike had been the fastest of his life, and he could still hear a couple of the men struggling to quiet their laboured breathing from keeping up the gruelling pace he'd set. His shoulder still burned where the bullet had hit him, but he pushed the pain away until it no longer existed.

Murphy and Jax flanked him, and he had never been more grateful to have them by his side. As it was, he was barely holding on to rational thought knowing Doyle was inside that building with The Hive. All he wanted to do was rush in there and get him out.

"I count nine on the outside," whispered Jax, looking through his night scope.

"Me, too," confirmed Murphy. "Three more inside moving around by the windows, but there's probably more in there."

Bodie hadn't realised he'd started to move in until he felt Murphy's big hand rest on his chest, holding him back. "Not yet," Murphy insisted quietly. "We go in together or Doyle doesn't stand a chance. Don't go getting stupid now."

Jax checked his watch and pinned Bodie with a look of understanding. "Thirty-eight seconds, Bodie. We all move in together then. You can wait thirty-eight seconds."

Bodie gave a brisk nod in answer. 

They were the longest thirty-eight seconds of his life.

***

Doyle was freezing to death. He could no longer feel his hands or feet. The shivers that wracked his body were so extreme he was sure they were damaging muscle tissue. At least he could no longer feel the stinging of the dozens of shallow cuts over his arms and legs.

They hadn't even hurt him to gain information. Whatever drug Krivas had given him in the plane had made it impossible for him to keep silent about the coordinates for the location of the weapons. He wished he hadn't had a good memory for numbers, that he hadn't been able to give them the coordinates, but in the end, he'd had no choice.

And still that scarred faced bastard had cut him – tortured him.

Krivas told him the only reason he did it was because he loved to hear Doyle scream, that Doyle had a beautiful voice.

Doyle had tried his best not to give Krivas the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain, yet in the end, he'd failed there, too.

He was naked, gagged, bleeding, and soaked with a bucket of icy water that had been dumped over his head by one of the laughing terrorists. He was bound to a metal wheeled chair in the centre of a room that most likely hadn't had a functioning heater in more than a decade. He shuddered, remembering how the men had taunted him and laughed while they'd yanked and shoved him from one to another, using their heavy boots to kick at him. 

His stomach cramped suddenly. He felt so physically exhausted even the involuntary shivers were beginning to subside. After so many hours of being mentally and physically tormented, his body didn't have the strength left to fight any longer.

Only the thought of Bodie kept him going beyond where Doyle would have surrendered. If Bodie was alive, he would be coming for him. Doyle never doubted that for a second.

Forcing himself to stay awake, he attempted to focus on anything that would interest him enough to keep his mind alert. When Bodie came, Doyle needed to be conscious. He'd need to be able to help Bodie in any way he could.

Doyle summoned up enough energy to raise his head. He glanced around the building, seeing that it was a sort of bunker made of metal plates that would have been easy to take apart and transport elsewhere. The structure and everything in it was designed to be portable.

As interesting as that might have been to Doyle at one point in his life, right now, it was the only thing keeping him from focusing on the searing cold that sank into every pore of his body. Already, he was feeling a heavy, sleepy lethargy which Doyle knew meant impending hypothermia. 

Doyle's head slowly began to lower. He watched, almost in fascination, as water dripped steadily from his hair mixing with his blood to form a shallow, red pool at his bare feet. His eyelids slid down and he struggled to open them again, telling himself he had to stay awake.

Bodie was coming.

Faith in Bodie was all Doyle had left now, and he clung to it with every ounce of strength he possessed. 

Suddenly, the sound of the metal doors bursting open, followed by the sharp blast of gunfire, filled the room. Doyle didn't have enough energy left to lift his head again to see who it was, but he didn't have to – he knew.

Bodie had come for him.

***

Finally, Bodie was able to act. He easily took out four of the men who were guarding the entrance gate before the rest of the group, both CI5 and Russian Intelligence, could even close the distance. Bodie ignored the rest of the enemy guards outside, knowing his team would take them down. He had only one goal. Get inside, eliminate the hostiles near Doyle and get him out.

As he rushed towards the building, Bodie glanced to his left to see Murphy was right beside him. The two of them burst through the metal doors, shooting anyone who wasn't Doyle. Three men fell before the enemy had a chance to return fire. One man ducked for cover behind a metal partition and another sprinted across the room towards Doyle.

That was when Bodie nearly lost it right there. Doyle, tied to a chair, naked, a pool of blood glistening beneath him.

It was like staring at Nicolas' dead body all over again. Beaten. Tortured.

Dead.

Bodie nearly doubled over in pain, fighting the urge to vomit. _No!_ his mind screamed. This couldn't be happening again. There was no way he would be able to survive losing Doyle.

The day Nicolas had died, a monster had been born inside of Bodie. Over the past two years, Bodie had fed that monster a constant diet of guilt and grief and regret. The monster had grown, swelling inside of him until there was little room left for the man he used to be.

Doyle had somehow found the man who was hidden away and breathed into him a spark of hope, of life. But now, staring at Doyle's damaged body, everything left that was human in him died, screaming in torment. All that remained was the monster, prowling inside him, waiting for the chance to strike. He was going to take out every one of these sodding bastards and pray he died in the process.

A bullet whizzed by his head, and if it hadn't been for Murphy jerking him out of the way, it would have hit its mark.

"Get a grip," Murphy growled, using his larger body to shield Bodie's from gunfire. They were pressed into a little alcove by the door, which was their only cover. "Doyle's alive. Look, he's shivering."

Bodie peered around the corner, needing to see for himself. An enormous sense of relief washed through him when he noticed the shallow rise and fall of Doyle's chest.

"I'm going after him," Bodie told Murphy.

"Right," Murphy replied and gave Bodie the cover fire he needed as he raced across the room towards Doyle.

Behind him, he heard the pained grunt of the man who had taken shelter behind the partition. Bodie didn't doubt it was Murphy who had taken him down. He was almost at Doyle's side when suddenly someone jumped out from behind a filing cabinet and used Doyle's body for cover, pointing a pistol directly against Doyle's temple. "Stop," the man said.

Bodie stopped immediately, boots skidding over the concrete floor. His arm instantly came up to train his weapon on the man. He stared at him, waiting for an opening when recognition flared bright in Bodie's mind. The face was horribly scarred, but he had no doubt who this was. "Krivas," he snarled.

"Hello, Bodie." Krivas smiled, causing the scar along his cheek to stretch into gruesome ridges. "How nice to see you again."

"I thought you were dead." Years ago Bodie had heard rumours that his once old friend turned enemy had been killed when he'd tried to double-cross a gang of gun runners in the Congo.

"No. I'm very much alive."

"Not for long." Bodie grinned menacingly, his gun hand remaining steady, waiting for Krivas to make a wrong move.

"Now, now, is that any way to speak to a friend?" Krivas stepped a little more to the side, crouching low, putting himself completely behind Doyle, dispelling Bodie of any chance at a clean shot. "I knew you'd come back for this one." Krivas stroked the barrel of the pistol up and down Doyle's cheek. "Especially since you were a little too late the last time. I rather enjoyed my time with your Nicolas. You should have heard him scream, such a beautiful, beautiful lad."

Bodie felt nothing at Krivas' words. No fear. No anger. Only a frigid calm of knowing he was going to feel this man die. He was going to take Krivas' life with his own bare hands and make sure, without any doubt, Krivas could never hurt another person ever again.

"You and I have some unfinished business," Krivas continued. "You see, I was in that building two years ago. The one you blew up. That fire nearly did me in, but I managed to escape."

Bodie tossed his gun to the side, the weapon hitting the ground with a metallic clatter, and he spread his arms wide. "Here I am then. Let Doyle go, and I'm yours."

Behind him, Bodie could feel Murphy tense. They'd been mates too long for Bodie not to know that Murphy was thinking he was being a complete berk for giving himself up like this.

A malicious grin lit Krivas' eyes and he ordered, "Tell your friend over there to put down his weapon and back off."

"Do what he says, Murphy. Get out. I can handle this."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bodie was able to see Murphy lower his gun, yet he made no move to leave. "Don't be an idiot, Bodie. He's going to-"

"Get out!" Bodie yelled.

"Not without Doyle," said Murphy.

Bodie forced out a frustrated growl though he still felt nothing except the incessant prowling of that monster inside him and the pressing, urgent need to kill.

"Fine." Bodie walked right over to Doyle, making himself an easy target. Krivas immediately moved the gun from Doyle to Bodie, giving him the chance he needed to get Doyle away. He pushed Doyle's wheeled chair towards Murphy, trusting his mate to get the unconscious man out safely.

Now that Bodie was within easy reach, Krivas grabbed him around the throat with one arm and pressed the cold muzzle of his weapon against the side of Bodie's head. 

Bodie forced himself to feel nothing.

He watched as Murphy cut away Doyle's bonds and carefully lift him from the chair. Doyle's body dripped red, which Bodie could now see was more water than blood. He wanted to feel relief, but couldn't. If he let go even that much, the torrent of emotions screaming for release would burn him alive.

Once he saw that Doyle was safely on his way out of the building, Bodie deliberately let his monster free. It howled in delight. It took over his body, giving him nearly inhuman speed.

With one hard backward jab of his elbow, Krivas' weapon went flying and skittered across the room. Bodie spun around. He had Krivas pinned down on the concrete floor, with his hands around the man's throat, squeezing tight, watching him die.

Bodie still felt nothing. No sense of victory. No joy. Nothing.

When he could no longer feel the beat of Krivas' heart beneath his fingertips, Bodie let go. But just to be sure the man would not come back from the dead again, Bodie retrieved his weapon and put two bullets into the bastard's body. Only then did he turn around and walk away. 

He found Murphy hadn't left as he'd been told. His mate was standing guard over Doyle, who was sitting partially slumped against the wall with Murphy's coat wrapped around him. Murphy's weapon was at the ready and Bodie understood Murphy had stayed close to watch Bodie's back.

Bodie turned his attention to Doyle. Even though Doyle's head was tilted to the side, resting on his shoulder, Bodie could tell he was still conscious enough to see him. His green eyes were bright with fear and revulsion, staring, in shocked silence, at the man Bodie had just killed.

Doyle had seen the whole thing.

Had seen Bodie kill with his bare hands.

Bodie knew Doyle hated violence, and after what he'd just witnessed, Bodie was sure Doyle would have no choice except to hate him as well.

Fury rose up in him and he did his best to stomp it down. He had to keep hold of his emotions for Doyle's sake. Had to get him out of here safely.

As Bodie crossed the room, watching Doyle, he could tell that Doyle was getting weaker by the second. Could see the strength draining from him with every shiver of his body. Still Bodie refused to allow himself to feel anything. Not yet. Not until Doyle was safe and warm. 

Once he was at Doyle's side, Bodie reached out for him only to have Doyle flinch away from his touch. That small movement was confirmation of everything Bodie had feared. Doyle had seen him kill with his bare hands and in doing so, Bodie had lost him forever.

***

Slowly Doyle rose up to consciousness, feeling blessed warmth covering his body. He was too exhausted to open his eyes, but he could hear familiar voices in little snippets of conversation. He could also smell Bodie's spicy scent as his lover warmed him using his own body. 

"... he's freezing... need to keep him warm..."

"... going to be okay." That voice was Bodie's, though it didn't sound right. It sounded flat and cold.

"... injuries aren't severe... worried about hypothermia..."

As he became a little more cognisant, Doyle struggled desperately to find enough strength to speak. "S-sorry," he whispered. "Tried n-not to tell them the c-coordinates. I t-tried-"

"Hush, now," said Bodie, speaking into Doyle's ear. His voice still seemed odd, yet at that moment, Doyle didn't care. It was Bodie and they were both safe now. "You didn't do anything wrong."

As the warmth continued to engulf him, it made his entire body feel lethargic and sleepy. Not fighting it, Doyle closed his eyes, quickly drifting off.

The next time Doyle woke, he was in a bed. There were hands moving all over him and a plastic mask covered his nose and mouth. He tried to move and groaned when pain shot through him. Everything hurt. Even his skin felt like it was being prickled by hundreds of needles. 

"Give him something for the pain," demanded Bodie. Bodie was close, Doyle could tell, but he couldn't get his eyes to open so he could see him.

He felt the IV in the back of his hand being joggled, then whatever they'd given him for the pain started doing its job and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

The third time he resurfaced, he heard faint noises around him, the sound of men talking in hushed voices.

"Bodie?" Doyle croaked.

The whispers stopped and immediately he felt a warm, callused hand grasp his own – Bodie. 

Bodie was here. 

Doyle sighed in relief. He was safe now.

***

Bodie refused to leave Doyle's side for two days. He was tired and hungry and ached all over, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave. Not even the thought that as soon as Doyle woke up, he'd look at Bodie with revulsion.

Murphy stepped into the hospital room, his large body filling the doorway. He approached on silent feet, eyes taking in Doyle's condition in one thorough, sweeping glance. "He looks better today," Murphy said as he stepped up to the bed, across from Bodie.

"Yeah. Think he is. Although it's hard to tell under all those bruises."

"You should get a shower, mate. I'll sit with him while you're gone, if you'd like."

One side of Bodie's mouth twitched. "That your subtle way of telling me I stink?"

"A lot." Murphy flashed him a smile. "If you want Doyle to have anything to do with you when he wakes up, I suggest you clean the mud off your boots, shower and put on fresh clothes."

Bodie looked back down at Doyle. He was so still and pale under all the cuts and bruises that every time Bodie saw him, his gut twisted into a tight knot. He'd nearly lost Doyle. The thought still shook him to the core every time it passed through his mind, which was about every ten seconds. Bodie did his best not to think about it, but the room was quiet and Doyle's injuries were constant reminders of how close Bodie'd come to losing him. How close Doyle had come to ending up just like Nicolas. 

"I'll leave in a while," Bodie said, carefully stroking his fingers along Doyle's cheek.

Murphy nodded in acceptance, grabbed a chair and brought it closer to the bed. He settled into his seat with the patience of a man who had no plans of going anywhere soon. "What are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?" Bodie asked. "I'm going to sit here until Doyle wakes up."

"And then what?"

Bodie looked up, met Murphy's patient gaze. He knew what his mate was asking and a bleak emptiness filled his chest.

As much as it hurt him, Bodie knew what he had to do. He had to walk away from Doyle. Had to give Doyle a chance for a real life – one without the threat of violence looming over him every day. 

Thanks to CI5 and Russian Intelligence, they had killed all the members of The Hive in that compound. However, he could never be certain there weren't other members out there. Hiding. Waiting to strike again. To come after Bodie – after Doyle. There was no way in hell he'd put Doyle through all that again. The man deserved to be happy, and Bodie truly wanted him to be happy. He loved Doyle enough to walk away so that he could be. Cowley had promised him that Doyle would be relocated some place where he'd be safe. Where he could start a whole new life.

For himself, Bodie planned to go into hiding so deep no one would ever be able to find him. Not even bloody Cowley. He was going to leave the country, crawl into some jungle so thick it would swallow him whole. He'd disappear and Doyle would finally be safe from the taint of violence.

"That's not what Ray wants," Murphy said, as if hearing Bodie's silent thoughts. "That's not what you want, either."

"You don't know what I bloody well want?"

Murphy nodded his dark head. "Yes. I do."

"Okay, Mr Observant," Bodie glared at him, "what do you think I want."

"Doyle." 

"Some fortune teller you are. Anybody'd want Doyle. He's sex on legs."

"I'm not talking about sex, Bodie. I'm talking about more than that. Commitment. Love. Forever."

Bodie shook his head. "I can't. Already tried that. You know how it ended."

"What happened to your bloke wasn't your fault," Murphy said gently. "Besides, Doyle isn't Nicolas. If you can't see that, then perhaps you don't deserve him."

"I didn't deserve Nicky, either." 

"You're talking rubbish, Bodie."

"Look, Murphy. I know Nicolas loved me. Don't tell me what I already know."

"Suit yourself, mate, but Doyle seems like a good sort. And I think two years is long enough to punish yourself."

The only punishment that fit his crime was to die the same way Nicolas had – tortured, cold and alone. The thought of what his dead lover had gone through made his eyes sting with tears and he lowered his head. He still loved Nicolas and always would. How could he dishonour him by putting another innocent man in harm's way because he was selfish enough to want a second chance at happiness?

He couldn't.

He loved Doyle as much as he'd loved Nicolas. Perhaps more. He'd never thought it would be possible to love like that again, but he did, which only made it that much harder to walk away.

It also made it that much more necessary.

"It doesn't matter what I want," Bodie said to Murphy.

"Fine. Let's just say you're right about that. What about what Ray wants?"

"Doyle hates violence. He saw what I did to Krivas. And I saw the way Doyle looked at me when I reached for him. Pulled away, he did. Flinched as if I'd hurt him."

Murphy stared at him with a look that told Bodie the man thought he'd lost his mind. "Bloody hell, mate, I would have pulled away, too. You have no idea what you looked like back there, do you?"

At Bodie's bewildered frown, Murphy continued, "You were covered in mud and your face streaked with paint. There were spots of blood smeared on your clothes and skin, and you had this feral gleam in your eyes that had even me scared you'd gone over the edge. You'd just killed a man with your bare hands and you looked like you were ready to do it again. Doyle probably figured you'd gone a little crazy. Hell, I thought the same thing until you calmed down."

"Doyle should have known I'd never hurt him. The fact that he didn't only proves he really does see me as a violent man."

Murphy rolled his eyes and gave a snort of disgust. "Think, man! I doubt he even recognised you in his condition! And, furthermore, he's a civilian. Give the man a break. Unless you're just using that as an excuse not to try to make things work with him."

"Sod off, Murphy."

Murphy sighed and stood. "Stop being such a blooming berk, Bodie. It doesn't suit you. You love Doyle and you'd best let him know it before it's too late. Don't walk away. You'll regret it."

Bodie sat beside Doyle for a few more minutes, watching him sleep. He finally rose and left the room. Passing Jax in the hallway, he didn't acknowledge his friend, but hurried out. He had to be long gone before Doyle woke. Before Doyle had to lay eyes on Bodie, on what he was, what he'd done.

And, coward that he was, Bodie had to be gone before Doyle woke so that he wouldn't have to say good-bye.

***

A light shake to his shoulder woke Doyle. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find Jax and Murphy standing over his bed. He blinked a few times to bring his vision into focus then asked, "Where's Bodie?"

Jax's jaw clenched in anger and Murphy regarded Doyle with an even, blank stare.

"He's leaving," Murphy said. "For good. I don't know whether or not you want to stop him, but you need to decide right quick. He's got a three-minute head start. Once he's gone, none of us will ever be able to find him."

Fighting down a moment of panic, Doyle said, "He's leaving? Why?" 

"He doesn't want you to end up like Nicolas did," said Jax.

Doyle was still a little groggy, but he forced his mind to clear and take stock of what he'd heard. He knew Bodie felt guilty over his lover's death. Likely over what had happened to Doyle as well. He also knew that Bodie was a sodding idiot to think it was his fault. 

Doyle looked from one man to the other. "I have to stop him."

"You sure about this?" asked Murphy. "You need to think about what you're saying and be completely sure. Don't toy with him, Doyle." That last part was a warning, as clear and menacing as they got.

"Bloody hell, mate. Of course I mean it!" He glared from Jax to Murphy and back to Jax again. "Which one of you can run faster?"

Jax grinned brightly, vaulted over the end of the bed in a casual, graceful leap and was out the door in a heartbeat.

Doyle carefully began to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position. "Just don't stand there, Murphy. Help me get up." 

"You're in no shape to be getting out of bed. Let Jax bring Bodie back here."

"You really think Jax will be able to drag him back if he doesn't want to come?" Doyle threw back the covers, trying not to rip the IV out of his hand.

"Right." Without another word, Murphy helped Doyle out of bed to stand on unsteady legs. He then bent over to quickly and carefully slide slippers onto Doyle's feet.

Stripping a blanket off the bed, Murphy wrapped it around Doyle's shoulders. "As much as Bodie would enjoy seeing your naked arse sticking out that silly hospital gown, I doubt he'd enjoy sharing it with others." 

Doyle chuckled. He started to unhook the tube from the IV, but Murphy stopped him. "You need that." Taking the bag from the metal stand, Murphy handed it to him. "Hold onto that with one hand and hook your other arm over my shoulder." Once Doyle was situated, Murphy wrapped an arm around Doyle's waist, holding up some of his weight and they made their way out the door.

***

Bodie had almost made it to his Range Rover when he saw Jax barrelling towards him. He guessed that Jax was coming to try to stop him from leaving. There was, however, a small, terrified part of him that worried something may have happened to Doyle. He hesitated and it was in that moment's dithering he ended up flat on his back on the grass in front of the hospital's car-park.

Adrenaline flooded his system. He shoved Jax off in a rush of strength and jumped to his feet. Pulling back his fist, Bodie took a swing only to have Jax dodge it. Jax then grabbed hold of Bodie's wrist, twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him face first onto the bonnet of his Rover. "Bloody hell, mate." Bodie struggled to get free. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to stop you from making a huge mistake," Jax replied, still keeping pressure on Bodie's arm so he couldn't get up.

They continued to tussle with each other until a firm voice ordered, "That's enough!" 

Bodie froze at the sound of Doyle speaking and looked over his shoulder at him. Doyle was being held up by Murphy, wrapped in a white blanket and carrying his IV bag against his chest. His face looked even more pale and bruised in the bright sunlight.

"Get off me," Bodie growled at Jax and immediately the man let him up.

Bodie's first instinct was to rush to Doyle's side, but he bit back the urge and planted his feet a good two yards away from him.

Green eyes fastened on him and the look of utter betrayal that shone in Doyle's eyes was like a punch to Bodie's gut. "You were just going to leave?" Doyle asked furiously.

At that moment, Bodie wanted to thump Murphy, knowing he was the one who had told Doyle that. "I have to, Doyle. It's for your own good."

Doyle's mouth tightened into an angry line. "I'm a grown man, Bodie. Fully capable of deciding what I want and don't want. If you're leaving because you don't care about me, then go, but don't bloody well try to tell me that it's for my own good!"

The effort of shouting at Bodie seemed to visibly sap the strength from Doyle and he slumped against Murphy, resting his head against the man's chest.

Without a second thought, Bodie hurried over the grass. He took Doyle from Murphy, careful of his battered body. Doyle held himself rigid and uncertain. Of course, Bodie couldn't blame him. He'd hurt Doyle's feelings and probably a hell of a lot more than that. 

"I think you owe me an explanation as to why you were leaving without even saying good-bye," Doyle said, holding onto Bodie.

Bodie refused to meet Doyle's eyes, because he knew the look of betrayal was still twisting Doyle's face. It made Bodie ache deep in his gut for what he had to do to him. "Let's get you back in bed. We'll talk there."

"Murph and I will stand guard at the door," offered Jax in a cheerful tone. "Just in case Bodie decides to sneak away again."

Bodie growled, but made no comment. It was too cold for Doyle to be outside in just a flimsy hospital gown and a blanket. Tucking Doyle against his side, Bodie ushered him back inside the warm building.

***

Bodie said nothing as he returned Doyle to his bed and hung the IV bag back on the metal stand. Once he was done, he put some distance between them, pacing back and forth at the end of the bed.

"Well?" Doyle asked. His voice sounding strained. Tired. Hurt.

Bodie wanted to slam his fist into something. He felt trapped. Caged by guilt and responsibility. He knew what he had to do. It was just so bloody hard finding the strength to walk away from Doyle now that he was awake.

Not daring to look at Doyle, Bodie opted for staring at the square floor tiles at his feet. "We can't be together. It's too bloody dangerous for you. You nearly ended up dead. There's no guarantee it won't happen again. And there's no way of knowing if every member of The Hive is dead." The image of Nicolas' dead, battered body flashed through Bodie's thoughts. "Cowley is going to find a safe place for you. Where you can start a new life. It's for the best."

"Don't you think that should be my decision? I'm pretty smart and have been known to make an informed decision on my own upon occasion," Doyle said, his tone sarcastic.

"Not this time."

"Why not? Don't you trust my judgement?" 

"Damn it, Doyle! It has nothing to do with judgement."

"Oh, I get it now," Doyle said bitterly. "This is just your way of telling me you're not interested in seeing me anymore. You shagged me and now you're done. Is that it?"

Anger seethed inside Bodie at Doyle's crude, completely mistaken words. "No! That's not it."

"Then if you're not trying to blow me off, why were you running away?"

"I can't let you get hurt again."

When Bodie finally allowed himself to look into Doyle's eyes, he couldn't miss the determination in that green gaze. Doyle wasn't going to make this easy on him, not that walking away could have ever been easy.

Doyle regarded him with a hard stare. "And who's to say that if you leave I'll be safe? You said my life would always be at risk. That I'll always be in danger. It's something I'm going to need to learn to live with so I can protect myself."

"You'll be safer without me around." Bodie's voice was sharp with resolve.

"So, what you're saying is that even though I'll still be in danger, if you're not around, at least you won't be the one responsible if I get killed. Your hands will be clean. You won't have to worry about feeling all that guilt you've felt over Nicolas' death."

Something primal and frightening rose up inside Bodie and he could feel his eyes burning with rage. "You're not going to get killed! Ever!"

"You can't guarantee that, Bodie. No one can. In fact, I could be driving me motor and be smashed flat on the motorway. And you know what? There wouldn't be a bloody thing you could do to stop it. Nothing! Just like there was nothing you could have done to keep Nicolas alive."

"It's not the same thing!"

"It's exactly the same thing! You weren't there and Nicolas was taken. What if he'd been killed in a car crash because you weren't there to go to the shops for him? Or, what if he'd slipped on some ice and died from his head being bashed in because you weren't there to walk him to work every day. You can't be everywhere, Bodie. You can't be responsible for everyone. It's not your job to keep everyone alive."

Part of what Doyle was saying hit home, but Bodie refused to dwell on it. He had to make Doyle understand. "I never wanted to keep everyone alive. Just the people I love. Which isn't many. It shouldn't have been too much to ask."

Doyle's eyes widened and he asked quietly, "Are you saying you're in love with me?"

"No. I can't say that." And he couldn't. He couldn't admit to loving Doyle and give anyone who might be listening a weapon to use against him – a reason to hurt Doyle.

"I see. Well, I have no such problem." Doyle's voice softened. "I love you, Bodie. I want to be with you – regardless of the risk."

The words sang to Bodie's soul. Made what was left of his heart ache in desperation to hear them again. Doyle loved him. He didn't deserve that love, but, oh, how he wanted it. "I'm not worth that kind of risk."

"You're wrong. Even knowing what I do now – knowing what would happen, if someone gave me the choice of whether or not to go back and do it all again – the time with you, and the torture at the end, or no time with you at all – I'd gladly do everything the same way again. No regrets."

Doyle wasn't lying. Bodie could see that in his eyes. It made his gut clench. How could Doyle love him that much? Him, a violent man who had made so many mistakes. "You can't mean that."

"You dumb crud," Doyle said fondly. "Of course I mean it. Those days we had together were worth every single cut and bruise, every single second of fear that I suffered. You're an amazing man, Bodie. You're worth every bit of suffering."

"There's been too much suffering in your life because of me. Don't say you're willing to take that kind of risk again."

Doyle reached for his hand. It was only then that he realised he was standing by Doyle's side, as close to him as he could get without climbing up on the bed with him. Doyle's fingers felt cold and Bodie automatically wrapped them between his hands to warm them.

Doyle's voice was soft, but no less demanding when he said, "Why? Because then you'll no longer have an excuse to run? Because you'll have to face the fact that I love you and am willing to be with you even if it means I die?"

"I won't let you die." It was a promise.

"It's not your choice. Never was." 

Was it possible that Doyle was right? That he had no control over life and death?

He'd killed. He'd protected people from harm. Didn't that give him control? "God, Ray. Don't do this to me."

"I'm not doing anything to you, love, except show you that your life doesn't have to be about guilt and trying to make up for a crime you didn't commit. You can have a second chance at happiness if you want it. All you have to do it take it."

He wanted that more than anything. Craved a second chance, but did he deserve it? "I don't know if I can. What if it happens all over again? What if you die like Nicolas did?"

Doyle's fingers slid over Bodie's palm, soothing him. The fire in Doyle's voice was gone; however his words burned all the same. "What if that doesn't happen? What if you let yourself love me, and in forty years from now we're sitting in our back garden, drinking lagers and watching the sun set?"

Bodie released a groan; the image of him spending his life with Doyle had him nearly doubling over with longing.

When Doyle next spoke, his voice was thin with weariness. "It's up to you, Bodie. You can shut down and disappear, or you can let yourself live. Whatever you choose, I'll still love you. I will never regret loving you."

He closed his eyes briefly. He'd wanted to stay locked in his safe, emotionless box, but Doyle wasn't going to let that happen. The man was tearing away every single one of his barriers and forcing him to give his soul room to breathe. To grow.

As Bodie looked into Doyle's eyes and saw his boundless potential for love, a quiet sort of peace settled over him. From one heartbeat to the next, Bodie felt freedom from guilt was possible. That freedom to love was right in front of him, waiting for him to say the word. Doyle made him see that he'd been looking for what he needed in the wrong place. He needed forgiveness, but not from Doyle or Nicolas, but from himself.

So he did.

He let go of all the should haves, would haves and what ifs and gave himself the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he hadn't done everything right in his life, but he always worked to get the important stuff right. He knew now, without a doubt, that when Nicolas had died, he'd known Bodie loved him, because Bodie had always made sure Nicolas knew through both word and deed.

Nicolas' death was in the past. Bodie was finally ready to let go of all the pain and guilt and anger he'd kept bottled up inside for so long. As he released all those feelings, he began to remember the good times he'd shared with Nicolas – the happy times that he hadn't been able to recall amid all the guilt and shame.

They had loved and laughed and lived. Bodie would keep those thoughts in his mind in remembrance of the wonderful man that Nicolas had been.

He would live the life Nicolas would have wanted him to live. He'd let himself have the happiness that he'd found with Doyle. 

Covering Doyle's hand with his own, Bodie willed Doyle to understand what he couldn't figure out how to say. "God knows I'm not good enough for you. I'll never be good enough for you. But I want you. Want us to be together. Right now. I know a place we can go, a place where we'll both be safe, where no one will ever find us. Where we can start over – just you and me."

Doyle's eyes widened and he squeezed Bodie's hand. "You want us to be together?"

"Yes." Bodie grinned. "I want to make you happy, to keep you safe."

"Is that why you want us to be together? To protect me? I don't want to be a duty or a burden to anyone, especially not you."

"I do want to protect you, but that's not all."

"Then why?"

Doyle was going to make him say it. He didn't want to. Didn't want to put his heart out there like that, all open and vulnerable for Doyle to see. He wanted to keep that part of him safe. As long as he didn't say the words, if Doyle happened to refuse him, Bodie could walk away with at least his pride intact.

But as Bodie looked into Doyle's hopeful green eyes, he knew if he didn't take the chance and say it, he might lose Doyle forever.

To hell with his pride. 

He wanted Doyle.

Taking a deep breath, he looked Doyle directly in the eyes and took a chance. "Because I love you, Ray. Don't want to be without you. I want to go to bed with you at night and wake up by your side in the morning. And I want to sit in that back garden with you in forty years. I want all of that with you."

Doyle was silent for a long moment, as if trying to decipher what Bodie had just said. At the lack of response, Bodie began to worry, yet before he could say anything, Doyle grabbed hold of his shirt and yanked him down. Doyle didn't let up until Bodie's mouth met his. Doyle kissed him like he'd done back at the cottage. So sweet and full of love that there was no way even a berk like himself could miss it.

Bodie pulled away a little, his pulse racing, his breathing faster from just a few kisses.

"I suppose I could be convinced to put up with you," Doyle said with a smirk.

Bodie grinned. "I think I can convince you."

Mindful of Doyle's bruised face, Bodie kissed him gently. He felt Doyle smile against his lips, then heard the tired sigh as Doyle's eyes slipped shut. Bodie straightened up. "Going to go and chat up Murph and Jax. Be back in a few." He gave Doyle a peck on the forehead. "You know, if this wasn't a hospital, I'd be in bed with you in a flash. Can tell you need a good cuddle." Bodie brushed his fingers through Doyle's hair. "Not letting you get away. I'll tie you up in the cellar if I must."

Doyle chuckled. "I'm not going anywhere. But a bit of rope and bondage sounds like fun. Give me a few days and I'll be happy to oblige."

"I'll hold you to that." Bodie laughed as he tousled Doyle's hair. He kissed Doyle again, marvelling at his good fortune in having this amazing man in his life. If Doyle thought he deserved a second chance, who was he to argue?

After all, Doyle was the smart one.

THE END


End file.
